


Often Go Awry

by yshann077



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yshann077/pseuds/yshann077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne's only plan in life has always been simple. She's to finish college, get a stable job, live with a hundred cats and die a virgin. Finding out her professor's darkest secret is never part of that plan, and getting caught in the middle of his own mess is definitely out of the question. And yet, she finds out that she is in no position to complain.</p><p>An AU wherein Brienne Tarth is a college student who discovered one of Jaime Lannister's secrets and he sees to it that she keeps her mouth shut--even though he can't seem to close his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I WRITE SINS NOT TRAGEDIES

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is my first time submitting a story in AO3 (yey!) but I have been ghosting around this site for months now ever since I joined in the Jaime/Brienne bandwagon. Those two are just so adorable I can't even--
> 
> Anyways, here it goes. Enjoy!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters mentioned in the story.

  
Part One: I WRITE SINS NOT TRAGEDIES

Brienne Tarth could not adequately explain the feeling of excitement and relief that dared overwhelm her whenever she remember that this was her last year being a college student. After two more semesters of agony and ten more months of sleepless nights, everything would be much sweeter and better. She would no longer be stuck with hormonal young adults in drunken fraternity/sorority parties, but it wasn’t like she went to those stuffs in the first place. She preferred locking herself inside her room, alone and preoccupied by a book—any book, may it be a textbook or a pocketbook.

But at least, college life was more bearable compared to her high school days wherein she was coerced to deal with immature and shallow human beings that put the entire race to shame.

In her twenty years of existence, she never truly found herself fitting snugly in anywhere she went. With her mannish stature and appearance, it was difficult for her to embrace her femininity and other girls did not help one bit—unless you consider it “helping” when they rub it on Brienne’s face that she was as womanly as a dead log. Yes, they were very _helpful_ indeed.

The boys were very supportive, too.

When Brienne decided to try out sports, she thought that it was the perfect place for her. After all, her height alone was intimidating and the strength in her broad shoulders and thick limbs were a match to the other boys in school. It did not take long for her physical prowess to be recognized by her peers. She even had to be separated from the other girls during PE class.

At first, the boys were nice, but when she started to beat them at almost everything, they became bitter. In the end, she gained nothing but ridicule from the male species instead of respect and belongingness.

Her _freakish_ strength made her all the more out of place to both sexes.

Undergoing puberty was like going to the seven levels of hell and back in her case. While all girls were becoming softer and rounder, acquiring curves that marked their growth, she only became courser and longer. She had growth spurt instead of a budding pair of breasts. Her shoulders became broader while other girls’ hips swelled. She watched the girls in her class shed their baby fats to become leaner while her baby fats were replaced by hard muscles making her limbs grow longer and thicker. She envied girls who had thick, luscious hair, cursing her own thin and straw-like one. With a sprinkle of those damnable freckles, Brienne was not even close to being beautiful. Calling her plain was almost like an understatement.

On second thought, hell seemed more comfortable than her puberty _era_. Everything about her high school years was awkward and humiliating. There was no used lying about it, but that did not mean she was quite fond of that memory either.

Now that she was in college and was about to graduate, she had learned to accept the hard truth: she was going to die a virgin and live alone for the rest of her sad, miserable life in the company of a hundred cats—make that a thousand if ever she gets lonely.

But that did not hinder her from rejoicing at the mere fact that she was about to leave the wretched company of people within her age bracket. At least she was going to be released from the evil clutches of university work.

Boy, she just could not wait for this year to end. 

"Brienne Tarth?”

_Oh yes, goodbye suckers. I won’t be seeing you stupid people after this year._

"Brienne Tarth.”

_I no longer have to—_

“BRIENNE TARTH.”

As if a full-speeding train had hit her in the face, Brienne snapped out from her reverie when she realized that her name was being called. It took her a full minute to remember that her professor was calling out their attendance. It was her first day as a graduating college student and this was her last class for the day. It was no wonder her mind was off wandering once again.

“Here!” she hastily squeaked—well, close enough to a squeak anyway. Her voice, unlike all the other girls, was quite low, but the gods seemed to take pity on her misfortunes so they at least made her voice pitched higher compared to the male race. Nevertheless, she never _squeaks._

She dragged her clear blue eyes from staring at the blackboard to look at the impeccably dressed, blond man standing on the elevated platform in front of the entire class. He held a piece of paper in his right hand while his other hand was inside his pocket.

“Brienne Tarth?” he repeated, his green eyes skimming the entire class until he found the girl who rumbled something incomprehensible.

Brienne timidly raised her hand, ignoring the heat that came rushing up to her face.

“Ah, I guess Brienne Tarth is still having a summer hangover,” her professor mused as soon as his green eyes landed on her.

At the very moment their eyes met, Brienne felt the familiar warmth spreading farther down her neck and to her chest. She was no stranger to this feeling—the feeling of wanting to hide from those scrutinizing eyes knowing the thoughts that would come rushing in to the observer’s head. Even with the words unsaid, Brienne was aware of the japes just the same.

In his case, though, the words were not _un_ said.

“Brienne? Did I get that name right?” he continued to asked, managing to sashay his way towards her seat.

Brienne panicked as she watched her professor approach her with that mischievous glint in his eyes which reminded her of predators closing in for the kill. She managed to gulp down a lump that magically formed itself inside her throat and answered, “Yes, sir.”

“Brienne,” he repeated, making sure to take meticulous care in savoring the ‘r’ in her name. His husky voice sent shivers down her spine and she found herself in frozen awe, watching him smirked down on her. He was now standing right in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest. This made her regret her decision in choosing the seat beside the aisle which made her accessible to the professor.

“Brienne is a girl’s name, right?”

Poor Brienne was already aware of where this conversation was headed even before he spoke up. A hundred pair of eyes started to drill holes on every inch of her body as her classmates waited for her to make a blunder.

Before she could even answer, the man casually placed both his hands on top of her table and leaned forward until his face was leveled with hers. From this distance, Brienne could catch his musky scent of coffee and chalk dust—of bagels crammed with tuna and of the expensiveness of the clothes he was wearing. She casted her eyes down, not caring to admit how fazed she was at the intensity of his gaze. Words uncontrollably stumbled out of her wide lips, hardly making a decent phrase—let alone an entire sentence.

Amused, the golden man cocked his head to one side, a strand of his glorious blond hair falling across his eyes. “Now that I’m up close, it does little help in deciphering your gender. You are a girl, aren’t you? Unless you’re a guy burdened with such a girly name.”

Brienne cursed the redness that swallowed her freckled face and the heat that roared inside her body. Guffaws reverberated inside the auditorium and each sound made it felt like a knife had been plunge deep inside her stomach, twisting and twisting until it left a huge hole.

 "But maybe if we pay attention next time, we’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, don’t you agree?” he snickered, winking at her before veering his attention back on the piece of paper he was holding.

The laughter had somehow faded as soon as names were being called out once more and yet the ghost of its echoes continued to deafen Brienne’s ears.

  _Just five months. It isn’t that long,_ she told herself as she sank lower and lower to her seat as if the pull of gravity had doubled.

After the names were called and everyone was accounted for, the professor picked up a piece of chalk from his table and started to scribble his name on the blackboard. Brienne grimaced inwardly as she noted his indistinguishable handwriting that ceratinly disgraced humanity. As soon as he was done writing his name, he suddenly threw the chalk at the direction of a student who was surreptitiously talking to his seatmate. His aim was true and sure as the piece of chalk hit the back of the speaker’s head.

“Oh I’m sorry. The chalk just slipped from my hand,” he drawled, grinning rather like a Cheshire cat at the unlucky student.

Brienne could not decide which was more terrifying: to face a furious professor or a sadistic one.

“Let me make this clear. There are only two rules in my class. One, always pay attention. Two, in case of distractions, always refer to rule number one,” said he.

 _How creative,_ Brienne thought.

“Now, I hope all of you guys can see the blackboard because I just wrote my name. I know, I know. No need to fawn all over my handwriting. Just imagine staring at it for the next five months.” The man picked up another piece of chalk and deliberately underlined the words written on the board. “I’m Jaime Lannister, your econ 199 prof for this sem. You may refer to me as Prof. Lannister, Mr. Lannister, Prof. Jaime or Sir Jaime while you are under my tutelage, but you may call me anything you like after this semester. Yes, you may even call me an asshole as soon as you’re free from my clutches, but since you are not, you guys have to deal with the formalities.

 _A very sarcastic man indeed,_ Brienne mused as she studied her professor’s demeanor. He was cocky, that much she could already deduce. By his clothes alone, anyone could see that he was well off even without his job. His easy smiles and grace could make any woman swoon and his voice alone was enough in convincing a woman out of her clothes in a matter of seconds. It was hard to judge his age due to his debonair appearance, but Brienne assumed that he was in his late thirty’s.

 _An epitome of a douchebag,_ she told herself.

In fact, an hour spent in his class was enough for her to be convinced that he was, indeed, a jerk. 

As soon as the bell rang, Brienne could not describe the amount of relief she was feeling. She would have probably bawled her eyes out of pure joy and gratitude, but then again, she never cried.

 _Just one more year and it’s all over_ , she told herself as she fought her way out of the auditorium, wanting to get out of the room as fast as she could. For a moment there, she almost felt a pair of eyes on her back, but the idea was so ridiculous that she just shrugged it off as soon as it came.

**:**

“YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT YOU’VE ENLISTED IN PROFESSOR LANNISTER’S CLASS AND YOU DID NOT EVEN INFORM ME?!” an auburn-headed girl shrieked as soon as the door to Brienne’s room flew open. She crossed the room in a matter of milliseconds to grab the bigger girl’s shoulders and shook it with all her might. Her eyes were wide as she looked accusingly at her friend. “The sinfully hot Mr. Lannister?” she raved on.

Brienne’s ability to speak was momentarily forgotten as she tried to recover from the shock of Sansa’s sudden appearance in her room. “H-huh?”

“Do you even know that his class is the most sought out class in the whole university that even non-economic majors will kill just to get a slot? I WILL SACRIFICE A BLOODY LAMB JUST TO GET IN HIS CLASS!” Sansa half shouted whilst continuously giving Brienne a headache with all her shaking.

Getting rather irked, Brienne grabbed Sansa’s hands and firmly placed them back to her sides. “What are you talking about?”

Before Sansa could even respond, Briennne clapped her large hand on her friend’s mouth. “And please, stop shouting. I’m not deaf,” she told the Stark girl.

Sansa diffidently took the hand off and took a deep breath.

“Okay, that’s good. Just take a deep breath firs—“

“You got Jaime _fucking_ Lannister’s class. WHAT. SORCERY. HAVE. YOU. DONE?” Sansa said rather menacingly. She narrowed her eyes on Brienne and crossed her arms over her chest giving her friend the ‘what-is-the-meaning-of-this’ look which she was so used in seeing.

For the past two years, Sansa and Brienne had been flatmates. They were not really BFFs, but Brienne labeled the girl as ‘tolerable’ and so they were friends. Sansa is a sweet girl who has the power to throw an insult at Brienne’s face and yet still manages to make it sound harmless and innocent. The two girls were complete opposites when it came to appearance and personality, and yet their diversity blended well together so they learned to be comfortable with one another after awhile.

There were some occasional conflicts between them, but these were easily resolved in a matter of a few hours since both girls were not the type to hold a grudge. And anyway, they were quite fond of each other’s company. Their personalities complemented each other’s well. One was quiet and extremely reserved while the other was talkative and cheery. It was no rocket science to figure out who was which.

“I have no idea what you’re trying to imply,” Brienne said, shrugging. With that said, she quickly buried her nose on the pages of the book she was reading.

Sansa wrenched the book off her grasp with an irritated snort which was so unladylike of her. “How did you do it?” she demanded once more.

“I enlisted for the class and I got it,” Brienne answered, baffled and annoyed.

But Sansa never faltered from that tactic. “Are you even aware of how many girls are contemplating if they even have the chance of murdering you just to get your spot?”

Brienne raised an eyebrow. "I'll pretend that I did not hear that, but just so you know, he's clearly insane.”

If truth be told, Brienne knew only the basics about Jaime Lannister. It was impossible not to. His face was pasted on every magazine available, applauding his cunning ability to expand the Lannister Corporation at such a young age. He even wrote a book on economics and almost all universities were using it as a reference. What made it really amazing was the fact that all of these were done when he was less than 28 years old. 

“He’s not crazy. He’s a genius!”

“There’s a thin line between genius and insanity,” Brienne reminded her roommate.

“He’s also filthy rich and single,” Sansa countered.

Brienne sighed. “And he’s old.”

“No he’s not. He’s only 36 years old. He’s not _that_ old.”

“Old.”

With the dexterity of an athlete, Brienne lunged for her book. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be reading.” At the corner of her eyes, she saw Sansa pursing her lips as if debating with herself.

“What is he like?” she finally asked.

Brienne ignored Sansa’s question.

“At least give me the honor of describing to me this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Brienne!” Sansa exclaimed exasperatedly.

 “He’s insane and that’s that. What kind of a professor would throw a piece of chalk at a student just because he’s not listening?” Brienne grumbled as she turned a page from her book.

Sansa smiled. “What else?”

“He’s a spawn of the Others.”

“And?”

“There’s something wrong with him.”

When Sansa fell silent, Brienne took that as a sign of disappointment and so she risked a glance at her friend’s direction wondering what the other girl was thinking. Sansa appeared pensive for a moment giving Brienne the impression that her friend would finally shut her mouth.

Suddenly, Sansa shrilled, bursting Brienne’s eardrums at the process. These were the times when Brienne seriously questioned Sansa’s maturity and age. By the way she was acting; she was more of a love-sick teenager instead of a college student.

“You have to tell me stories. Promise me that you won’t keep any secrets from me,” Sansa told her, grabbing Brienne’s hands and squeezing them so tightly.

It was not like Brienne had a say to this matter. Before she could even protest, Sansa announced that she was baking lasagna, knowing that it was Brienne’s favorite meal. She smiled sweetly at her as if challenging Brienne to retort. Surprisingly, the implied bribery worked. Brienne consented and let herself be led to the kitchen.

                **:**

Brienne thought that surviving an hour in Jaime Lannister's class everyday was easy as pie, but she later realized that she does not even know how to make pies and does not even like one to begin with.

This was going to be a huge problem indeed.  

“Wench!”

That single word reverberated inside the auditorium leaving everyone inside the room flabbergasted and obfuscated by the randomness of it all. Brienne, for one, had dropped her pen in the process and managed to bit back a yelp. She quickly dove under her desk to retrieve her pen and when she straightened up from her seat, she became aware of all the eyes on hers. The familiar rush of heat filled her cheeks and she knew she probably looked like an angry, red tomato, but amid the hundred pair of eyes on her, she felt the overpowering gaze of two, piercing green eyes. She cursed mentally when she realized that the owner of those eyes was no other than Jaime Lannister himself.

He was smirking up at her, finally finding out her hiding place at the far right side of the room, at the topmost part of the elevated seats, partially obscured by the shadows. It had been her unannounced permanent seat since the second day of class. She glowered at anyone who tried to steal it from her and since then, no one tried sitting there.

Two weeks had passed after their first class and Jaime Lannister had successfully painted a very bad image of himself to Brienne’s eyes. He was ruthless and merciless when it comes to japes, always choosing a victim each day whom he would tirelessly attack with quips and insults. Brienne had almost lost count of the number of girls he had managed to reduce to tears within those ten days.

It was a nightmare.

And it also did not help that he is short tempered and easily gets distracted. A low murmur over there and his handsome face will contort into a menacing one, reminding Brienne of a lion. If looks can kill, he would have been a serial killer already.

Despite of his questionable sanity and teaching methods, Brienne had to admit that he has a brilliant mind and she could not help but be amazed by his ideas and concepts. She has never heard anyone sound so confident and well-versed with his topic before. He talks with ease, not bothering to glance at any book or anything else. His eyes were solely on his students, watching them expectantly. Not once had he got a name wrong, or a date or even as trivial as a book page. Those were the times when she realized that taking his goddamn class was worth it.

But these were also the times when she cursed her luck for squeezing into his class.

“Yes, I am referring to you, you great beast of a woman,” Jaime sneered, rolling his eyes at her stupid, gaping face. She was no beauty, that much was obvious, but there was something about her gruesome—okay, it’s not really that bad—homely features that made her stand out from the sea of students in his class. Her face, he could easily remember as there was no face as plain and as awkward as that. And by gods, look at the size of her. He could not help but grin when he saw her winced at his taunt.

“Oh close your mouth. You already look ridiculous without it hanging open. Are you planning to swallow a fly or something?” he went on, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. “I asked you a question and it is imperative that you answer it as soon as your name is called.”

Of course, Jaime did not call her _name_ , but she did not have to say that anymore.

But the freakishly huge woman just had to say it.

“My name is Tarth, sir,” said she, in a rather curt way.

“I know that. Now answer the question. We don’t have all day.”

Brienne would have rolled her eyes, but her mind was too busy raking for the answer to his question.

Two weeks had Brienne discovering that Jaime did not tolerate wrong answers. This was how he picked his favorite for the day. Fortuantely, she had read this lesson the night before out of pure boredom. Sansa was out to attend a party and Brienne was left alone in their flat with her books for her company. She never had been this grateful for her boredom before.

Fate has finally been kind to her for a change and she answered correctly. Jaime’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if trying to come up with a follow up question, but thought better of it and continued on with the lesson leaving Brienne quite proud of herself. It was a small victory but nevertheless she was glad.

 

**:**

On that very same day, Brienne had her fencing team meeting in the gym. It was their very first meeting for the year and their coach had some important announcements to make. To be honest, Brienne was really looking forward for the meeting knowing that today was the day when Coach Selmy will announce who the team captain would be this year. She was hoping that it would be her. Coach had always told her that she was the best man—woman—in the team. Even during her first year in the varsity, she had won more medals than the average senior members.

Fortunately, the gods heard her prayers and Selmy called out her name, hailing her as the year’s team captain.

“Congrats, Brienne.” Loras Tyrell was the first to approach her as soon as the meeting was adjourned. He grabbed her cold hands and eagerly shook them. “Whoa, nervous?” he asked, laughing a bit.

If it was even possible, Brienne became even redder at his words. In order to hide her blush, she threw a light and playful punch on Loras’ shoulder. “Shut up,” she mumbled. The warmth in her cheeks had not fled ever since Selmy had introduced her as the new team captain.

“Renly always knew that you’re going to be the next team captain after him,” Loras told her.

That caught Brienne off guard. “H-huh?”

Loras beamed at her and patted her back. “Oh well, good luck!” And with that, he left.

Brienne watched him in silence as he left. She was very much flattered to hear that Renly had believed in her skills and was very thankful that Loras was there to tell her that.

Loras Tyrell was also a graduating student and was one of her closest friends in the university, along with Renly Baratheon who was the previous team captain of the fencing varsity. Renly, on the other hand, had only graduated last year. Currently, he was out to build a company of his own, branching out from the prestigious Baratheon Corporation at such a young age. As far as Brienne had heard (from the news), he was doing great. She was not surprised since she had always known Renly to be charismatic and eloquent. He could convince a grown man that an apple was a watermelon if he wanted to.

Those two guys were one of the very first people she met in the university. Loras, she met during the freshman orientation while Renly was the one who invited her to join the fencing club--and eventually, the one who introduced her to Selmy Barristan, the coach of the fencing varsity in King's Landing State University.

Brienne snapped out of her reverie when everyone followed after Loras, shouting out their regards to their new leader and clapping her at the back for a job well done. Brienne endured all the attention, slightly shying away from the amount of attention she was receiving in such a short period. She was not used to getting this much attention from people and she admitted that it was really flattering.

“Thanks,” said Brienne for the nth time already, waving at her last teammate in the gym. She let out a sigh of relief as soon as she was alone, glad that she could finally go home. _Sansa will cook a celebratory dinner tonight,_ she thought happily as she walked out of the gym.

The cold wind greeted her as soon as she walked past the door, making her shiver at its icy touch. Her normal reaction to the temperature made her reach for her jacket only to realize that she was not even wearing one. Baffled, her hands immediately reached for her bag and dug through its contents.

It was not there.

She checked her waist, thinking that she probably tied it around there.

Nope.

She went back to the gym but there was no signs of her jacket, making her groan in frustration. Her hand went up to her short, blond hair, tugging at it to make her think straight. It was her favorite jacket—the jacket Renly gave to her last Christmas and she could not believe she lost it.

 _C’mon Brienne, try to remember where you left it,_ a small voice cooed inside her head.

_Well, I was wearing it when I walked to school this morning._

_And?_

_I took it off on my first period and shoved it back inside my bag._

_Second period?_

_Still in the bag._

_Lunch?_

_Oh yeah, I wore it again since Sansa and I decided to eat outside of the campus._

_Third period?_

_Hmm, I did not take it off since our prof decided to open all the windows._

_Last period?_

_I took it off and placed it on top of the table._

_And?_

_And Prof. Lannister called my name again—well, not my name. He always calls me wench. And then, he talked and talked and talked. When the period ended, I ran off knowing that we have a team meeting today—_

Brienne grimaced.

_Goddamnit._

**:**

The hallways of the Economic building was semi-deserted. Only a few students were left having some last minute conversation with their friends before they wrap the week up. Brienne walked briskly, determined to get her jacket in record time.

To her disappointment, the corridor at which the auditorium could be found was already empty. After all, it was at the farthest side of the building and no one bothered loitering over there. It was eerily silent, save for her noisy footsteps. The lonesome tapping reminded Brienne of all the horror movies she had watched. _Great, go scare yourself for all I care,_ she thought rather sarcastically.

When she reached the familiar double door that led to auditorium, she could not help but overhear two hushed voices coming from the other side of the door. She froze on her tracks, feeling like a child caught doing something wrong. She held her breath as she strained to listen.

“Jaime, not here.”

Brienne cocked her head to one side. That was certainly a woman’s voice.

“Why not? We’ve done this a hundred times already.”

And that was definitely her professor.

“There may be students—“ the woman panted out.

“Students be damned. Do you even have the slightest idea how much suffering I’ve been through just thinking about your—“

Brienne almost choked on her own breath upon hearing the last word, knowing that it was definitely far from innocent. It may only be seldom that her poor ears were exposed to such lewd language, but she was not living under a rock to be ignorant of _that_ sort of thing and hearing it now at such a very inconvenient time and place made it even more awkward than it already was. And once again, the gods had found amusement in her misfortune by deliberately placing Jaime _fucking_ Lannister at the other side of the door.

 _This is awkward,_ said her mental self, seemingly amused.

But the real Brienne was shocked and deeply aghast. This was worse than falling down a manhole and landing on an entirely different dimension where humans are cannibals who like eating juicy, huge human beings like Brienne. At least she could kick some cannibal-ass at that dimension and she was sure as hell that she had the ability to fend for herself. But this case was a far cry from that make-believe dimension. She could not kick her way out of this. All she could do was back away from the door and pretend that she heard nothing and…

“You’re so wet.”

Brienne froze, the voice seemingly coming into a crescendo. From the other side, she could hear heavy breathings and loud moans produced by the intensity of their passion. The warmth that terrorized her face quickly pooled down to that place between her legs as a disgusting image entered her head. She tried shaking it off but it still clung to her brain as stubbornly as a gum. This was certainly going to traumatized her forever.

“Jaime—“

She needed to go but she found her feet glued firmly on the ground, half-terrified and half-curious, wondering who on earth the woman was. She ran her head for all the beautiful female professors in the university. There were a lot and Brienne would bet that those women would not think twice of throwing themselves to the golden man.

 _Brienne, snap out of it_ , she told herself.

Standing there for who knew how long, listening to the ruts and grunts of two human beings doing the art of intercourse, Brienne realized that her breathing had become heavy and her heartbeat was deafening against her ears. The world had fallen silent amplifying the voices at the other side of the door.

But even that stopped for a moment. The voices suddenly hushed making Brienne sucked in her breath, a momentary panic settling at the pit of her stomach. Her instincts told her to step back, but her curiosity got the best of her and the next thing she did was to press her ear on the door wanting to know what had transpired. As she leaned forward, her bag hit the door with a loud thud.

"JAIME!" the woman at the oher side of the door screeched as soon as she heard it (and as soon as she found her release).

The door flew open to reveal a disheveled and furious looking Jaime Lannister.

Whenever Brienne looks back on this specific turning point of her life, she would always say that she did not scream like a girl. She merely _jumped_ but this was definitely not the situation.

Jaime's green eyes sparked with such intensity and force that Brienne could not hold back a scream. He was beyond angry. He was murderous. His handsome face was distorted with rage and the growl rumbling inside his chest reminded her of a lion once again.

Of course, the most mature thing Brienne could do at this situation was to apologize and explain her unwanted presence but the childish part of her told her to run and hide from the terrifying man. 

Being the intelligent being that she is, Brienne ran.


	2. HEY YOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just one look from Jaime and it was enough for Brienne to know that he would do anything to keep this secret, and that made her very scared. The Lannisters was the most powerful family in Westeros. Everyone knew that it was suicide to get on their bad side. 
> 
> She was trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two people! I'm enjoying this.  
> Thanks for the comments and for the kudos. You guys make me feel loved. =)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Characters are not mine.

Part Two: HEY YOU

 Brienne knew that running was the worst and stupidest thing she could have done at that time. She knew that the man sprinting after her would inevitably catch up, but she panicked! Her mind had gone blank as soon as her eyes landed on the murderous face of Jaime Lannister.

 _You_ _should have just yielded and apologized,_ she rebuked herself as she ran. The once silent corridor was suddenly filled with the reverberating footsteps of Brienne and Jaime as the former was trying to get away from the latter.

 _Goddamn it. I should have just left that stupid jacket as soon as I heard them, but no, I just have to listen,_ Brienne groaned, angry at her own accursed curiosity.

“Damn it, wench, stop running!” the man shouted after her.

 _Like hell I would_ , she thought, but before she could even finish that thought, she felt something heavy hitting her from behind and throwing her off balance. She fell flat on her face with something pushing her down on the floor, restricting her movements. Her body ached from the fall and her face was burning from humiliation. She was gasping by the time she realized that Jaime was hovering above her, both of his hands grasping her wrists and pinning it behind her. His knees were pressed on her thighs, encasing them and preventing them from moving.

Even though she was tall and broad as any man, she was surprised to find herself completely subdued by him. He was stronger than most men and he was angry.  

“Stop, squirming,” he hissed, his breath ghosting at the back of Brienne’s neck. It made her feel weak and for a moment, the closeness of his lips to the sensitive part of her bare skin sent shivers down her spine. She ignored his command and continued to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” said he.

“You already are,” Brienne snapped. “Unhand me.”

“Swear to me first that you won’t run off.”

Brienne remained silent, as if constructing a blueprint for her escape plan, but in truth, she was just nursing a bruised ego. She had always considered herself stronger than any man only to be proven wrong by one. This was the first time she was defeated. 

_It's not a fair fight, Brienne. You were just caught off guard._

“If you won’t swear to me, then I’m afraid I might have to tie you up—I think gagging you will also be wise of me—and then I’ll have to drag you all the way to my car and put you inside the trunk until we get to a place where we can talk privately.”

Brienne stiffened. He wouldn’t do that, right?

“Well?”

 "Fine, I swear I won’t run,” she spat out.

It was better to be safe and sure than risk getting kidnapped.

"Good.”

With that said, he released his grip on her wrists and disentangled himself off her. Even though she was already free to move, she refused to do so, feeling bruised all over her body from the impact of the fall. Her chin was throbbing and she was certain that it had hit the tiled floor. The inside of her mouth tasted like blood--probably because she had accidentally bitten her tongue in the process.

“What have you seen, wench?” Jaime asked as soon as he stood up.

Brienne finally rolled to her back and sat up. She looked up to meet his stony gaze. Even though his expression was not as intense as before, she could still feel the anger radiating from him. “Nothing.”

"I don't believe you," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Her anger flared. “I saw nothing. The door was closed so I can’t really see what you two are doing.”

“But you know what we are doing, right?”

Brienne willed herself not to blush when a mental image popped inside her head, but her body betrayed her and she felt her face become unbearably hot. “N-no.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced by her pitiful ability to lie. He slowly crouched down until he was sitting on his heels, leveling his face with hers as he studied her for a moment. His eyes were dark and unreadable. “I barely know you and yet I am certain that you’re lying.”

Brienne wavered, more perturbed by his inability to grasp the concept of personal space than by his ability to read her. She tore her gaze off his face and decided to focus them on the floor. Her brain was going in haywire as so many thoughts flooded her brain. She realized that she had no idea what she should do and what was going to happen next. _So what if I caught him fucking someone inside the auditorium? Why is he overreacting? It’s not that serious. I mean, men fuck all the time. Jaime is a bachelor and he has his needs. It’s not like he killed someone._

“Damn it, Jaime.”

Brienne looked away from the floor and looked pass Jaime to see the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her entire life. She had golden blond hair—much like Jaime’s—her thick tresses almost falling down to her waist. The waning light caught each strand of her hair, perfectly, making it glow and create a halo around her head as if she was an angel. Her features were delicate and smooth with only a bit of sharpness in her cheekbones. Her eyes were green—very much like Jaime’s again. In fact, she was Jaime—only, she was the female version of him.

Brienne’s eyes widened in surprise as realization dawned on her. She knew that woman. She had seen her in magazine covers and in televisions. Her face had haunted the media for as long as Brienne could remember and was usually accompanied by a very similar face with the same eyes, hair, lips, nose….

 _Cersei Lannister,_ Jaime’s twin sister.

And suddenly, the puzzle pieces fell into place. This was why Jaime was on the verge of tearing her head off. This—whatever this was—was something no one should know. If ever someone witnessed them rutting it out inside his classroom, the Lannister Corp. would be in it for a lot of unwanted media outbreaks and gossips. Their reputation might be in peril and who knew how the public would react. Both of them would be ostracized by society, because this was wrong--really wrong. It would bring dishonor to their family and to the company and…and….

“I told you this might happen. If only we have waited just a bit longer, we won’t be having this complication,” Cersei ranted, wringing her hands together as she paced back and forth. Her face was blotchy and her make-up was cracked, but she still managed to pull it off.

Brienne found herself tongue-tied.

Jaime stared expectantly at her, waiting for her to say something—anything. He noticed that her face gave everything away. From the look she was giving, she had not known who the woman was before Cersei decided to follow them out. He cursed silently, thinking how much easier it would have been if his twin had been meek enough to heed him for once. It was too late now.

“Brienne, I’m sure you understand perfectly what you’re current position is,” he said, slowly, as if speaking to a child, but his irritation was still evident.

Just one look from Jaime and it was enough for Brienne to know that he would do anything to keep this secret, and that made her very scared. The Lannisters was the most powerful family in Westeros. Everyone knew that it was suicide to get on their bad side.

She was trapped.

 _But this newly acquired information is enough to get me out of here,_ Brienne thought. Of course, they would not want their little secret to be spilled out of the bag. This could cause them their share in the company, because Brienne was sure as hell that Tywin Lannister would not be pleased by this arrangement—unless their family was composed of sick psychos. This information could be used as a blackmail.

“Yes, I know,” Brienne finally said, finding a bit of her strength as she ran those thoughts in her head.

 Jaime smirked—a very cold smirk that sent Brienne’s confidence flushing down the toilet.  “Do you now?”

“What are you doing, Jaime?” Cersei fumed, stomping her way to them. Her face was pale now and it continued to lose more color as she looked at Brienne, a look of pure disdain etched on her pretty face.

“I’ve got this,” Jaime assured her.

 _No you don’t_ , Brienne wanted to scream at him, but she bit her tongue instead.

Jaime turned his attention back to Brienne, his face unreadable under the fading lights. “You may have some silly thoughts inside that thick head of yours right now, but might I remind you that you are just nobody. People value names more than truths. Oh sure, it might create an uproar, but in the end, it’s all about who has the power. It’s your words against ours, wench. You have no evidences. I can see it in your eyes. So technically, it never happened.”           

A sour taste invaded Brienne’s mouth as she comprehended his words. Whatever hope she had a while ago was crushed and trampled under Jaime’s heels. She was trapped once again and she had no way out. She hated playing this kind of game--all so political and powerplay.

"As far as I remember, wench, you have never failed a class before," said Jaime, sounding thoughtful and mischievous at the same time.

She narrowed her eyes on him, afraid to confirm his statement.

"You wouldn't want to fail one now, right? I mean, it will surely cost your scholarship if you fail my class. That will be very bad. Not to mention that you're about to graduate."

Her eyes widened as her brain finally processed his insinuations. "You can't."

"I can make your life miserable," he threatened, his eyes lacking the mirth it held a few seconds ago.

From the corner of Brienne's eyes, she saw Cersei smirked, seemingly pleased by her brother's approach.

 _The Lannisters are as ruthless as they say they are_ , Brienne thought, fighting the tears that dared sting her eyes.

"I'll take that as a deal, then," Jaime said with a tone of finality in his voice. He stood up and stuck out his hand to Brienne. "What do you think, wench?"

The younger girl stared at his hand, hesitant and wary. "We'll see."

And she took his hand. 

**:**

Brienne had no idea why she was even letting Jaime drive her back to her apartment, but then again, it wasn’t like she had a say on the matter. He insisted that he should see her home. After all, it would be _unchivalrous_ of him if he would let her go home alone when the sun had already set.

Cersei had gaped incredulously at her twin when Jaime insisted that he take her home . “What do you mean you’ll be driving her home? You’re letting her go that easily?” she bellowed.

“Don’t worry, sis. We’re not done talking yet,” Jaime told her, grinning rather smugly at no one in particular. It made Brienne’s skin crawl. She never liked his Cheshire-like smiles. In fact, the Cheshire Cat has always scared her even when she was just a child. The smiling cat had scarred her for life. 

That creepy smile never left his face as he led Brienne out of the building, placing his large, calloused hand at the small of her back. She cringed at the contact and tried to get away from it, but his hand stayed obstinately on that specific area.

 _He knows that it's distracting me. That bastard..._ Brienne thought, grudgingly.

"Have a safe trip back home, sister," Jaime said as he watched his twin get inside her car.

Cersei merely shot him a meaningful look, her face conveyed a silent message that only her other half could decipher. For a moment there, Brienne felt like she was intruding in something really private.

 _Technically, you have just done that a while ago,_ her inner voice snickered.

Feeling rather awkward, Brienne focused her eyes on the purplish black skies, wondering how many stars were willing to reveal themselves that night.

As soon as Cersei pulled out of the school's parking lot and was out of sight, Jaime returned his attention back to her. His green eyes were deadly serious and cold. Brienne tried very hard not to get suck into its stormy vortex. Pushing her lightly, he led her to a sleek, silver Cadillac, parked somewhere not too far away from where Cersei's Lamborghini was parked a few seconds ago. He opened the door and ushered her in. She hesitantly complied, moving rather robotically as she crammed herself inside his car. The smell of leather and car freshener entered her nostrils as soon as she was inside, instantly giving her a headache.

She hates the smell of cars.

Within a few seconds, they were cruising on the bustling road of King's Landing whilst silence hanged heavily between them. Brienne kept her gaze on the comforting scenery outside her window, stubbornly willing her heart to calm down. 

"Where do you live?" Jaime finally asked.

"Three blocks away from the university," she answered without bothering to look at him. "Go left at the intersection."

Jaime shot a quick glance at her direction, watching the lights from the streets outline her rough features. Even at the dark, she was still no beauty. 

"You must feel disgusted at me right now," he suddenly said.

This immediately caught Brienne's attention, but she refused to look at him. Instead, she narrowed her eyes on the passing buildings and people at the other side of the window. As much as she loathed to admit it, she was afraid that he might be able to read her once more and see the horror and astonishment in her eyes. She was not so sure about being disgusted, though. 

 _Maybe, I am a bit, yeah,_ she told herself.

"You're the fourth person to know about me and Cersei. The other one is our little brother, Tyrion Lannister. You must have heard of him--the small man with the biggest brain in the whole universe. I'm pretty much certain that he's widely referred to as the 'Imp'." A smile flickered briefly on his face as he thought about his brother. "He's a genius, or so everyone in the media says, and I really do believe that they are right. He witnessed us fucking inside his room one time, but I have a feeling that he always knew even before that incident, though he never told anyone."

Brienne did not know why he was even telling her that, but she found herself listening to every word he said, blushing at his lewd choice of words. 

"The very first one who caught us was our mother. When Cersei and I were younger, we got curious about our--how should I say it? Ah, Differences. We were curious about our anatomical differences. Dear mother caught us doing our homework when we were ten. She died a few weeks after discovering our foreplay." 

 _Now that's unexpected,_ Brienne thought, her skin crawling at the meaning behind his words, horrified at the implication of possible murder and kinslaying.

Jaime merely smirked, not bothering to explain his mother's death further.

"And then there was the kid. I don't know his name. I didn't have to anyway. As soon as we spotted him watching us fuck inside one of the abandoned towers at the Wall up North, I pushed him out of the window. Last time I heard, he survived, though, he can never walk again."

He glanced at her as he relayed the story, meeting her wide eyes, briefly. For a moment, he was caught off guard by the blueness of her eyes caused by the storm of emotions brewing inside her. He could not tell if she abhorred him all the more because of his stories or if she was scared for her own safety. Whatever it was, it made Jaime realized how intensely beautiful her eyes were and somehow, it was sucking him in.

 _She's judging me,_ he thought bitterly. Anger welled up inside him once more.

"Go ahead. Say it. I'm a monster," Jaime said, rolling his eyes.

"We cannot choose who we love," she merely muttered, turning away from him.

Her response surprised him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, pondering on the meaning of her words. Was she mocking him or sympathizing with him? 

For the first time that night, he could not read her.

"Things we do for love," he mumbled back, as if agreeing with her.

They both fell silent once again.

When they finally reached Brienne's apartment building, she almost burst out in tears of joy and relief, but then again, she never cries. Without waiting for Jaime's permission, she got out of the car as fast as she could. She would have kissed the pavement beneath her feet, but thought against it, knowing how stupid she would look to her professor. She reminded herself that she needed to appear respecable and composed in front of him or else....

To her dismay, he followed her out and all the way to the entrance to the building. They paused at the glass door, waiting for Brienne as she fished out for the keys. Jaime was right behind her, waiting patiently.

As soon as she inserted the key to the lock, Jaime reached out from behind her to grab it from her hand, his arm brushing against her shoulder and making her jump. It was only then she realized that she was trembling slightly. He opened the door for her like the perfect gentleman he was.

"Remember Brienne, a Lannister pays his debts," Jaime said, gravely, looking directly to her eyes.

 _There's a slim chance of me forgetting that_ , she thought. Nevertheless, she chose to remain quiet.

He suddenly stepped towards her and her initial reaction was to back away from him. He took another step forward, pushing her back until her back hit the wall. Her whole body was tensed as he slammed both his hands on the wall behind her, trapping her. It amused him how she seemed to be taller than him in a few inches and yet, she was panicking like a helpless maiden at the minimal distance between them. He was sorely tempted to press his whole body against hers just to push her to the edge, but he resisted.  _Maybe next time,_ he thought, amused. 

"Nothing happened," he growled.

Brienne willed herself not to shiver at his voice, at the closeness of his lips to her ears, at the contact of his breath against the side of neck and at the echoes of his moans from a while ago that seemed almost a lifetime ago. Before she knew it, her face was turning beet red and she could feel tendrils of heat touching the pit of her stomach.

That Cheshire-like grin appeared on his face as he noted her reaction. "See you at class tomorrow," he said,  finally stepping away from her. He watched her ran all the way inside the building, slamming the door behind her as soon as she was safely inside.

Brienne did not look back. As soon as she reached her room, she wrenched the door open and closed it hastily behind her, bolting it and peering through the peephole after locking the door. Sansa heard the commotion and was out of her room to see what was happening. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Brienne snapped back, walking briskly to her own room. 

Sansa did not look convinced, but Brienne did not care. She locked the door to her room as soon as she was inside.

 _Call the police? Call father? Call someone?_ her subconsciousness screamed at her.

_But...but...they might know and he'll...he'll..._

_Just pretend it never happened then,_ it said.

 _Easier said than done_. 

Unbidden, an image of a naked Jaime Lannister taking Cersei from behind entered her head.

 _Stop it, you perverted woman_. 

But she could not help but feel quite aroused at the image.

She shook her head.

_Bad girl._

The urge to call her father came over to her. She wanted to hear his voice and be reassured that she was safe and that she could survive whatever this was. She was scared of what the Lannister could do to her. They have too much power over her and she did not like it one bit. Maybe she could fend for herself, physically, but this was beyond physical. They could damage her in many ways unimaginable--emotionally, psychologically, mentally, academically--and the list went on and on. Bruises, scrapes, broken bones and cuts, she could handle, but pressure was an entirely different topic. She could not fight her way out of this.

_Unless I kill those damn twins._

That was definitely out of the question.

_Dad._

Her hand immediately went to her pocket where she usually stashed her phone. All she got was a handful of empty candy wrappers. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she placed her hand inside her other pocket. It was empty. She checked her backpockets and it was not there. She scrambled for her bag, dumping the contents on her bed. 

_Seven hells, where's that blasted phone?_

The hair on the back of her neck prickled as a stupid idea whacked her in the head. She slowly approached the window that gave her the perfect view of the road and looked down.

There, parked at the exact place where she left it, was a sleek, silver Cadillac. Its driver leaned casually on it, looking up at the window where Brienne was gazing out from.  He smirked upon seeing her pale face and raised his hand in the air as if to wave at her. It was then that she noticed that he was holding something up. She squinted, trying to identify the object he was clutching. 

It was her phone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People may be wondering about the title. To be honest, I have no idea what came over me when I typed that down. Oh well, I can't think of anything better. 
> 
> (This work is currently unbeta'd....)
> 
> P.S. Chapter title was gotten from Hey you by the Exies


	3. I WILL NOT BOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime did not even faze at her words. No. Not even a wince. He merely smiled that Cheshire smile and shook his head. “I dare you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYSSSSSSS!  
> I'm so sorry if it took a bit too long for the third chapter. Our sembreak had just ended and our enrollment was hectic and it almost killed me. But don't fear, my second sem sched is a bit better than my last one so I might still be able to update once a week.
> 
> Here it goes!
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and will never be mine.

Part Three: I WILL NOT BOW

Brienne was still awake. No matter how long she closed her eyes, she would always find herself thinking and grimacing and regretting. She longed for sleep, but her whole body was against her. Heck, everyone seemed to be against her right now. The gods had never been kind to her. Jaime Lannister was never kind. Cersei Lannister did not seem kind. And Sansa...Well, she was Sansa.

Brienne wanted to call her father, who was miles away from King's Landing, but the devil, a.k.a. Jaime Lannister, just had to steal her phone. If she asked for Sansa's, the Stark girl might ask questions which Brienne would not know how to answer without spilling the beans. She had no choice but to wallow on her misery...alone.

 _How the heck did he even get it from me?_ she wondered as she stared at the ceiling of her room.

Unbidden, her mind wandered back to the time when he sandwiched her between the wall and himself. She was too distracted by his scent and his closeness and maybe he took that as leverage in order to snatch her phone from her pocket.

_Curse him._

It was well past 2 a.m. when Brienne decided to give up on getting some decent sleep. Her stomach was growling angrily for lack of food, but she ignored it.  _Later_ , she told herself as she slowly made her way to her desk amid the darkness. Only the pale, silvery touch of the moon illuminated her room as she did her best avoiding whatever obstacles on the floor. Somehow, she managed to make it to her desk, unscathed.

She took her laptop out from her bag and placed it gently on top of the smooth surface of her desk. When she noticed that there was a random pen on top of it, she hastily took it and placed it in the mug where all her other pens were. She never liked having random objects clattering her desk. It had to remain clean and organized. All her books were stacked inside her bookshelf beside the desk and all papers were stapled and filed inside the drawers, alphabetically arranged and classified according to dates and things like that. 

Brienne wants everything to be under control and this was the reason why she did not like her current situation right now.

She slumped down on her swivel chair and turned on her laptop. Her eyes took some time to adjust from the sudden glare of lights coming from the screen, blinking away the stinging tears that magically appeared at the corner of her eyes. 

_Am I crying because of the lights or because of...._

No. She was not crying. It was just the sting.

 _Time to do some background research_.

If she was to fight this battle, she had to equip herself with more information about her foes, starting with Jaime Lannister, because he was the real danger. He was the one who had the power to inflict an immediate damage on her unlike Cersei whom Brienne might never see again after their first encounter.

 _Unless she decides that I need to be eradicated from the face of the earth,_  she thought sarcastically.

This was why she sometimes hates herself.

_Is it only sometimes?_

Brienne sighed.

"Jaime Lannister," she mumbled under her breath as he typed his name on the search bar. She clicked on the first link presented to her by Google, her most trusted friend, and she did not stop clicking links since then. She read and read until her eyes felt swollen and red--until the last drop of black disappeared from the skies, to be replaced by the cheery light of the morning. By then, she had dug up long forgotten rumors and scandals revolving around Jaime Lannister and his entire family members. There seemed to be a never ending list of them in the internet and that was only Jaime's alone.

Checking up on him was probably a bad idea. Brienne thought that if she learned more about Jaime, she would feel a tad bit braver now that she was armed with sufficient knowledge about her adversary. In the end, her sources only confirmed her doubts that the Lannisters was not a family to mess around with.

In the span of six hours, Brienne had learned that Jaime was not only notorious for his uncanny abilities in the field of business but also for his natural tendency to be impulsive and violent. According to thousands of reports, he had been involved in numerous fights inside clubs, restaurants, stores and other public areas due to unknown reasons. And yet, no matter how badly injured his opponents were, no one pressed charges.

 _Strange,_ she thought.

_In the end, it’s always about who has the power._

His words rang inside her head, as if convincing her that Jaime was right. The Lannisters had the power, making them a dangerous bunch that is better left alone.

 _What’s the worst thing he will do to keep you silent?_ the small voice inside her head asked.

_Well, he’s rich and spoiled rotten so he’ll probably try to bribe me._

But then, Brienne remembered Jaime telling her the fate of the three people who had discovered his secret: Tyrion Lannister, their mother and an unnamed, crippled boy. She shuddered at the thought of an innocent kid falling off a tower. It was a wonder how he could have survived such a fall.

 _He’s a heartless and cruel,_ Brienne thought.

_Apparently, he did not bribe the boy. The boy paid for it instead._

With that thought in mind, Brienne remembered Jaime’s face when he discovered her eavesdropping.

_That is the face of a man who won’t hesitate killing a defenseless boy._

But why did he have to tell her about the kid? He just revealed another secret to her which could definitely destroy his whole reputation. He could go to jail for that deed.

_He wants to scare you._

Brienne scowled at the image of Jaime on her laptop’s screen.

If that was true, then it was not working.

_Okay, maybe a little._

**:**

Two days almost felt like two years for Brienne as she waited for the weekend to end before facing her impending doom. Knowing that her fate lied in the hands of a Lannister, it almost felt like all hopes were lost. She would never find peace again unless they gave it to her themselves.

 _I can fight, though. If he's going to hurt me, I can retaliate,_ she consoled herself.

But then again, there were so many ways he could hurt her.

For example…

“There you are wench! What are you doing hiding at a corner like that? C’mon over here so that I can see you better,” Jaime said as soon as he entered the classroom, looking as sharp as ever wearing his expensive suit and rotten attitude.

Brienne almost dropped her pen, once again, upon hearing her unwanted nickname. The desire to melt and become one with the Earth overwhelmed her as hundreds of eyes stared at her.

“No? You don’t want to be under the spotlight? Oh. Okay. That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine.” He raised both of his hands up as if in surrender, and simply grinned his feral grin at her, basking in her embarrassment. It amused him how her freckles were in constant battle with her blushes. The redness of her cheeks somehow softened her uneven features.

Brienne almost cried out in relief when Jaime turned his attention away from her and started his discussion about the effects of macroeconomics to the society.

Halfway through the lecture, Jaime suddenly stopped in midsentence and threw the chalk across the room, not caring where it landed. He sighed, shook his shoulders a bit to loosen some of its tension.

“You know what, I’m bored and I’m exhausted,” he stated.

Everyone just stared at him.

“Class dismissed,” he announced, rubbing his hands together—the same way comical villains do.

A ripple of murmur came over to the class; half was befuddled by the abruptness of his dismissal while the other half was merely glad that they were dismissed earlier than expected.

“Miss Tarth, a word please,” Jaime hollered as waves and waves of students slowly dispersed from the auditorium.

Brienne froze on her seat, caught in the middle of gathering her things and cautiously ensuring that she had left nothing behind. A couple of guys snickered at her as they passed by, whispering to one another as they pointed blatantly at her. She glared at them in return.

As soon as everyone was out of the room except for her and Jaime, Brienne stood up and stiffly approached his desk where he was gathering up his things. She cringed inwardly as thousands of possible scenarios entered her head.

_This is the moment of truth. Either I’ll be a rich woman once a step out of the classroom or I’ll be a dead one._

“How’s your weekend, wench?” Jaime asked without looking up from his work. He was currently stacking up papers on his desk, reading the first few lines briefly before putting them on their respective pile. All in all, there were four towers of papers on top of his table.

Brienne shrugged, uncertain how she should act and what she should say. Her heart was hammering against her chest and it was definitely not because she was alone with Jaime, inside the very same room she heard him and her twin sister doing  _it._

_Oh c’mon, Brienne. You’re already a college student, goddamn it. Why can’t you just say the word—_

“Don’t worry. Your phone is at good hands. I’ll be returning it to you shortly after you help me put these papers back to my office,” Jaime told her, gesturing to the pile.

Brienne scrunched up her face in confusion, completely forgetting about her phone. She never really cared for that gadget, but now that Jaime mentioned it, she wondered what had happened to it.

Noticing the baffled look on her face, Jaime chuckled. “Don’t worry. I did not do anything to hurt your precious phone. I just had to make sure you did not have any evidences,” he explained, casually picking up one of the four stacks. “Now go get those other three and follow me.”

Brienne gaped at him—not because of his frankness, but because of the three other heaps of paper left on top of his table. How the heck could she bring those?

 _He could have at least taken two of those,_ she thought bitterly.

A  part of her wanted to grab him by the collar and snarl at him, face to face—throttle him if she had to, but the other part of her just wanted to run away and never show up in his class. If only her scholarship was not on the way, she would have dropped his class like a hot potato.

“We don’t have all day, wench, unless you’re really desperate to have me for yourself, then by all means, take your time,” Jaime teased, cocking his head to one side as he waited for her at the door.

Brienne rolled her eyes, resolving to ignore his command and just go home, but instead of doing that, she found her body automatically gathering the three piles in her arms and trudging behind her professor.

Was it really in her nature to be so obsequious? No. She was just being cautious—or so she told herself.

 _Darn it, Brienne. I thought you’re stronger than that,_ that blasted voice inside her head sneered.

Lately, the voice was starting to sound more and more like Jaime’s.

_Great._

As they walked along the corridor, Brienne noticed the other students staring at them. They must have made a ridiculous pair. With Jaime looking golden and brilliant with his easy gaits, she must have appeared abominable. With her shoulders hunched down and her strides brisk and graceless, she tried her hardest to hide her face behind the tower of papers in her arms. When they stopped in front of a door with a sign saying, “Jaime Lannister”, Brienne could not help but let out a sigh of relief.

“After you, wench,” said he, bowing mockingly at her.

She would have laughed if only the joke was not directed to her. “The door, please.” She gestured at her arms which were fully occupied by his papers.

“Yes, yes. I can also see the door.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes on him, not able to process his sass that quickly.

He sighed, melodramatically. “You’re no fun, wench,” he muttered before opening the door himself.

“My name is Brienne Tarth,” she corrected him rather instinctively.

“That’s what I said.”

When Brienne chose to not reply, she heard him laugh as she made her way inside his office.

It was a small, cramped room with thousands of unnecessary objects lying around the floor, on top of his table as well as on the seats. Brienne scowled in disgust as she stepped on something unknown and almost unearthly on his carpet.

“Be careful and don’t touch anything. They’re fragile,” Jaime told her, closing the door behind him and easing his way towards his desk.

Brienne disguised her repulsion towards his unorganized office into complete indifference as she tried her best to reach his desk without tripping over an unidentifiable object which was lying aimlessly on the floor. Upon succeeding, the desire to leave the place overwhelmed her, and this time, it had nothing to do with the clattered room, but because of the simple fact that they were alone inside his office.

“Put those papers over there.” Jaime pointed at his desk.

Brienne stared at where he was pointing at, wondering how the hell could she squeezed in the papers to his already-too-clattered desk. She frowned disapprovingly.

“Oh silly me,” Jaime mumbled as he dropped his pile on the table, not caring where it would land. “Just put it anywhere.”

For almost a millisecond, her heart lurched when the pile almost missed the surface of the table. Miraculously, it didn’t.

Brienne looked around, searching for an area where she could lay down the pile. She spotted an empty chair at the corner of the room and decided to place the papers there.

“As promise, I’ll give your phone back,” Jaime told her as soon as she put down the stacks. He was holding her phone up and wagging it at her in a very taunting manner. Brienne kept a straight face as she lunged for it. Unfortunately, he quickly slipped the phone back in his pocket, smiling wickedly like an eager child.

_So close and yet so far._

“But first, let us talk.”

Brienne almost groaned in frustration. “I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about,” said she.

And that was almost true. She had thought about it over the weekend, wondering what she could possibly do with the sensitive information she had stumbled upon. Of course, it could be some sort of a weapon against Jaime if ever he threatened her in any way, but aside from that, she had no other motives to bring the Lannisters’ downfall. They hadn’t done anything to destroy her (yet) and she was not really interested in getting rich—

 _Even though my father may desperately need some money,_ she thought.

And she wouldn’t know what to do with so much attention from the media if ever she did spill the beans. She could just imagine the number of reporters scrambling over her feet just to hear her first hand account on the issue.

_Nope.  Just no._

“Oh I know. I’m just making sure,” Jaime reassured.

_And here you are acting like you already know me._

“But I really do know that you won’t tell anyone. Don’t give me that look.”

Surprise must have overtaken Brienne’s expression since Jaime just began laughing.

“You’re so readable,” he told her in between guffaws.

Her face flared up as she realized that she had no idea what he was talking about, but the only thing that seemed to process inside her head was that he was studying her face.  _He’s a mind reader,_ the small, Jaime-like voice deducted.

“It’s no rocket science, wench, so don’t even think that I’m a telepath or something.”

_Definitely a mind reader. How can he not be?_

Jaime was giving her a weird look as he gazed at her almost pensively. His head was tilted on one side as he assessed every inch of her. “I checked your phone for evidences. It’s clean. You have nothing to support your claims if ever you have the urge to start yapping about  _that_.”

“Trust me, sir. I don’t,” she half-snarled and half-snapped.

“You’re a smart girl, Brienne. I know you won’t.”

Brienne knew that it was not the right time to be touched by his sudden decision to call her by her rightful name, but she could not stop the somersaults her stomach did when her name rolled out of his tongue. Nevertheless, she kept her face as blank as she could muster.

When she did not say anything, Jaime took that as a sign to continue talking.

“I hope you don’t mind if I do some background check on you. Oh wait—I already did,” he informed her, frankly.

Brienne was not surprised. It would have been the very first thing she did if ever she was in Jaime’s place.

_But it isn’t like I want to be in his position. I mean, having sex with your twin is….stupid and unimaginable. I can’t even—._

_But you also did a background check on him,_ Jaime-voice reminded her.

Was it possible that one could be annoyed by her own thoughts? It was infuriating enough to have jaime standing in front of him, and now he was also inside her head, too. 

"A little bird told me that you don't have much friends to share your secrets with and I'm not even surprised when I found that out," said Jaime. "You don't have any twitter account, and the last time you've logged in to your facebook account was ages ago. You joined tumblr, but you only have five followers and 209 posts, and you've never attempted to send a message to anyone in that site...."

LIstening to Jaime recite all those made Brienne realized how lonely her life must have sounded to him. Heck, it sounded miserable and sad to her already, and this was her life he was talking about. She already knew all those stuff, and yet, she could not stop the myriad of emotions flooding her. She was shocked, scared, insulted and sad; shocked, because Jaime knew about her social life; scared, because Jaime got his hands on that kind of information; insulted, because he made it sound like her life was uninteresting and lonely; sad, because it was true.

To make it worse, he went on.

"You don't have much friends back at the Storm lands either. The only friend you had turned out to be a complete asshole and you've never attempted to reconnect with him after graduation. You have two companions whom you always hang out with at school, but never AFTER school or outside school. One of them graduated last year. You have a roommate, but I doubt that the two of you are close, considering the vast differences between your personality and hers. You've kept in touch with one of your High school teacher, Catelyn Stark, and always sends her a greeting card or an email. She's probably your roommate's mother. And then, you have a father back at home--in Tarth--who's pretty much in deep shit, because of his failed attempt in starting a business. And this is why your scholarship is very vital to your education or else you'll have to stop for a year. Your mother died, giving birth to you and your only brother drowned when he was only young."

 _That was one heck of a bird,_ Brienne thought, horrified at the onslaught of such personal information coming out from his mouth. 

"I can go on, if you want," Jaime offered, noticing her ever-widening eyes.

"No need. I've heard enough."

"Honestly, wench, I almost cried when I heard your life story. This probably explains your lack of humor."

Brienne glared at him. Inside her head, she tried to come up with creative ways to cause bodily harm on him. She could probably try hitting him on the head and make up an excuse of having a severe epileptic episode for a second. Or maybe she could step on his toes with so much force and tell him that it’s completely unintentional and innocent.

But, then again, Brienne was too honorable for such a cheap trick.

“You will not provoke me, sir,” she mumbled, almost to herself, as she tried to hold in the rage that stubbornly boiled inside her.

He guffawed. “But I’m already provoking you. Look at your face. You’re getting all red and livid.”

She clenched her fists to her sides and mentally started to count, hoping that as she reached twenty, her anger would subside.

“I’ve also heard from Coach Selmy that you’re the new team captain of the fencing varsity. Congratulations!”

Brienne snapped out of her thoughts on killing Jaime, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the older man in front of her.

“I also became the team captain during my time. Twice in a row, actually. Same team. Same coach. You can probably show me what you’re made off sometimes, albeit I’ll be a bit rusty, but don’t worry; we’ve got loads of time to get me back into shape.”

“Excuse me?” Brienne gaped at him. What did he possibly mean by that?

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m asking you to spar with me, wench. Isn’t that obvious enough? I have to keep an eye on you somehow, and it will be very boring if we do nothing at all.”

 _I DON’T WANT TO SPAR WITH YOU. IN FACT, I DON’T EVEN WANT TO BE WITH YOU, STUPID!_  She screamed inside her head.

His mind reading skills might have caught up with her thoughts, because the next thing he did was to frown. “Might I remind you, dear wench. You hold such dangerous information, and Cersei wants to make sure that I keep your mouth shut.”

“By sparring with me and ordering me around? Yeah, that will probably work,” Brienne scoffed.

Jaime’s face darkened, and he took a step towards her. She backed away to maintain the distance between them.

“Failing a class means getting laid off the team. It’s a pity if you lose that position since it’s almost tantamount to losing your scholarship. And losing your scholarship means disappointing your father whom you love very much and who is currently in the middle of bankruptcy. You wouldn’t want to add in to his problems, right?”

“You threaten me with words, but words are wind,” Brienne snarled at him, letting her resentment flare.

“But I’m not merely threatening you with words, wench. I’m telling you the possibilities.”

“I can tell everyone that you are harassing me, and then, I can spill everything to the media about the things I know. And I can also go to the police and tell them about your attempted murders,” Brienne argued, hotly.

Jaime did not even faze at her words. No. Not even a wince. He merely smiled that Cheshire smile and shook his head. “I dare you.”

Obfuscation terrorized anger. Brienne gave him an incredulous look, urging him to expound on his random statement.

“I dare you to do just that. Tell one of your friends about everything you know and tell me if one of them believed you.”

Brienne felt the hair on her arms stood at the lowness of his voice and at the intensity of his gaze on her. She felt her own gaze faltering under the scrutiny of his green orbs, turning her into a puddle of glob and mess. “They will believe me,” she said, trying to sound confident and strong, but confidence had never been her ally. She may be strong, but she never trusts herself.

“Your words against mine. You, who have no evidences against me, versus me, who may or may not be innocent,” Jaime told her. All mirth from a while ago disappeared in a matter of seconds.

“Fine,” she snapped back, storming out of the room in haste.

Jaime watched her go, wondering if he did something foolish and impulsive as he was always wont to do. But then, he shrugged.

 _She did not even get her phone back,_ he thought, but then, he made no move to run after her. Unbidden, his thoughts drifted back to Brienne’s face. It was ugly as usual and distorted with rage, making her appear manlier and more unpleasant than necessary, but her eyes were deadly calm and in control.

 _Pretty eyes,_ he mused.

Her red face made them even bluer and brighter than normal, and Jaime had found himself not wanting to tear his gaze off them. It was clearly out of place on her homely face.

_But those eyes are the eyes of a child—honest and oblivious. It’s a pity she has to deal with the Lannisters._

A part of Jaime pitied her, knowing that she was going to fight in a futile battle, but the selfish part of him was eager to see how far she would go, and how determined she could be. Her eyes were a dead giveaway, showing him how stubborn she could get.

_We’ll see if she’s foolish enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would also want to say THANK YOU for the kudos and the comments. They are VERY inspiring and encouraging. =)
> 
> P.S. My song for the day: I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin


	4. ALONE TOGETHER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smile would suit her more than a scowl, he mused, fascinated by the wench’s guarded demeanor. He had a feeling that she would snap once she was pushed to her limits. She was so rigid and controlled that it was impossible to decipher her real thoughts and emotions. It’s almost like an illusion. She appears strong and undefeatable, but beneath all those masks, what is she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, hey. I know it has taken so long for me to update, and I'm so sorry for that. It's just that I'm from the Philippines and I'm sure the tragedy that struck my country is all over the international news. Don't worry, I live somewhere far from the center of the typhoon during that time so I'm good, but I was still too distraught to write anything within the past days, because it's so painful for me to see my fellow countrymen suffering so much. It's hard seeing their loved ones, properties and lives taken away from them in just a blink of an eye and I can't even....
> 
> During the past days, I have been volunteering in our university's projects in helping the victims, and so I did not have that much time on my fic. Nevertheless, I tried. So here it goes...
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters and I'm sure that you guys will notice some proverbial lines that I have extracted from the show so....yeah.

Part Four: ALONE TOGETHER

Brienne was distracted, and it was an undeniable fact.

The first sign of her being sidetracked was that she was oblivious of her affliction. The second was that her mind would be too preoccupied by her own thoughts. Third was that she would be clueless of whatever is happening around her—even the Armageddon would have a hard time catching her attention. Trip her. Hit her. Insult her. Laugh at her. Cry in front of her. Tie her up on a tree. Bring her to a mountain. Gag her. Kidnap her. Hide her inside the trunk of a car. Do all of those things at once, and yet, she would know nothing about it.

And fourth, she would momentarily forget her own name.

As she sat on a large, stone bench, under the cool protection of a very gigantic tree, her mind was off reflecting on her short and poorly-lived life. Other students passed by her, not sparing a second glance at her direction. In fact, almost all passerby were unaware of her presence.

There she was, minding her own business when her friend, Loras, came into the scene, grinning like a fool.

“Brienne!”

At the sound of her name—her real name (and not wench), Brienne almost choked on the milk she was drinking, making her realized for the first time of her life that liquids are also capable of choking people.

“Hey!” Brienne greeted, trying to match his enthusiasm. Unfortunately, she failed. It sounded gruff instead of her intended chirp.

 _What the heck, Brienne. You never chirp. What are you? A bird?_ Jaime-voice snickered.

At least the Jaime inside her head never called her _wench,_ and he was much more tolerable than the real one.

_It, Brienne, it. Not him. It’s just a bloody voice, and you named him—it Jaime, okay?_

“I have been searching for you all over the campus,” Loras told her as he took a seat beside her.

Instead of saying anything, Brienne wordlessly offered him her carton of milk.

“Thanks,” said he, grabbing it and taking a sip.

Brienne leaned back on the bench, stretching her legs and crossing her right foot over her left ankle.

“You promised that we’ll have lunch together,” Loras told her, pouting slightly.

Brienne stared at him, as if his words were too difficult to process inside her head. “I did?”

“Yes, you did.”

“I’m sorry I forgot about that. It’s just that I’ve been busy lately and…”

“Too busy being a teacher’s pet?” Loras asked, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes.

Brienne frowned. “I’m not playing anything,” she snapped, instantly becoming defensive.

Loras smirked knowingly, and took another swig from the carton of milk.

“Give me that,” Brienne said, snatching the carton from his clutches.

The Tyrell boy laughed. “Don’t get your knickers up in a bunch. I’m just repeating what Sansa keeps complaining about.”

Brienne sighed. _Way to go, Sansa._

“What’s up, Brienne?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

Loras cocked his head to one side, studying his friend’s face. He noted that her ears were getting redder and redder by the second. “Sansa told me that last Friday, Professor Lannister drove you home.”

Brienne shrugged.

“And that, yesterday, she saw you entering his office.”

A grimace crossed her plain, wide face before she could even react appropriately to her friend’s words. “That does not justify you calling me a teacher’s pet.”

Loras chuckled. “Okay, fine. I’m just curious, that’s all. Sansa makes it sound so suspicious. You should listen to her rant about it to Margaery.”

 _Chick flicks are dangerous. It brainwashes people,_ she thought, almost laughing at the absurdity of the idea.

“Trust me, I don’t want to hear it,” she said instead, rolling her eyes.

“So, lunch?”

Brienne nodded her head, even though she knew that she would be having her next class in a matter of thirty minutes.

As they were walking side by side, Brienne was seized with the idea that this was a perfect opportunity to do her little experiment. The question that had been bubbling inside her since the night before came back to her with such ferocity that it was already too hard to ignore. It demanded to be released whether she liked it or not.

“H-hey Loras,” Brienne stammered, stopping on her tracks in the process.

Loras also halted, eyeing her curiously. “Yeah?”

“I have something to tell you and I need your honest opinion, okay?”

“Oooookay.”

It did not escape Brienne’s notice that Loras sounded hesitant at the sudden change of atmosphere.

“Will you believe me that I….I mean, do you think it’s possible that…No, wait. Uh, will you believe me when I tell you that Professor Lannister is doing _something_ with his twin sister?”

Loras’ only response was a raised eyebrow.

Brienne wanted to slap herself for failing to use the appropriate term.

_Doing something with his twin? REALLY, Brienne? Really?_

“Wait, let me rephrase that,” Brienne said, hastily.

“Okay?”

This time, Loras did not bother hiding his doubt.

“Prof. Lannister has a twin sister, right?”

Loras nodded.

“And, well, I think they are, uh, you know, uh, having this kind of relationship with one another….”

“Brienne, are you trying to say that they are engaged in an incestuous relationship?”

“YES! Gods yes!” Brienne almost shouted, feeling quite relieved that Loras had figured it out before she could further make a blunder.

Loras tilted his head to one side, his soft, brown curls falling across his eyes in the process as he studied her face. Both of them were silent, assessing each other.

Finally, he sighed. “Brienne, I’m sure that’s not the case. Maybe Prof. Lannister is just really close with his twin. After all, they ARE twins, and so they have this special connection which no one can comprehend. It’s very unnecessary that you read in to it too much. And besides, you’ve never even met the woman.”

Brienne opened her mouth as she was about to tell him that she had indeed met said woman, but he beat her to it.

“Take me and Margaery for example. We’re not twins, but we are as close as any twins can be, but we aren’t into incest.”

_This is not what I had in mind._

“I know you can never understand the complex relationship between brothers and sisters since you’ve never had a sibling, but trust me, it’s normal to have this special bond with them. It’s not incest. It’s just sibling love.”

_No. It’s you who cannot understand what I’m saying. Have you ever had sex with Margaery? No. Well, these guys already did, and God knows how long they have been doing it. Now that is incest! Goddamn it. I know the difference between incest and sibling love._

But instead of voicing out her thoughts, Brienne merely kept quiet and walked on. Loras followed behind her, choosing to drop the subject altogether.

Brienne would not waste her breath much longer on Loras. She knew how it would end anyway. No one had ever really taken her seriously, and why would he be any different? She should have known better than to push her luck.

 _And besides, you don’t have any evidences to back you up,_ Jaime-voice reminded in a sing-song voice.

_Shut up._

**:**

“Hello, wench!” Jaime greeted rather zealously as soon as he spotted Brienne making her way towards his desk. He was not surprised to see her willingly go to him after he had dismissed his class. After all, they still had some unfinished business to deal with.

“Sir, I forgot to get my phone,” said she. Her voice was flat and dull, and she trained her face to remain blank and expressionless. By the look of it, she had mastered the art of being indifferent very well.

 _But behind those calm eyes, what does she really feel?_ Jaime wondered.

“Ah, yes, your phone. If I don’t know any better, I bet it’s only your ploy to have me all for yourself,” he sneered as he stood up from his chair. “It’s in my office.”

“May I have it back, sir?”

“You have to get me a cup of coffee first.”

Brienne gaped at him. “Coffee?”

“Yes, wench, coffee. You know that black, bitter liquid that tastes like heaven, and is almost analogous to drugs for people like us.”

 _People like us? Is he classifying himself with me?_ Brienne thought rather indignantly.

“Here. Go get me a cup of coffee.”

Jaime handed her a Gold Dragon.

“You are aware that a cup of coffee does not cost that much,” Brienne told him, pointedly.

He shrugged. “Go buy yourself a cup, too.”

Sighing, she took the gold coin and made her way out of the room.

Jaime merely smiled at her as she walked out of the room. “Deliver the coffee to my office!”

Brienne did not respond.

“And I want extra sugar on my cup!”

Once again, she did not show signs of any acknowledgement on whatever he was saying.

 _Stubborn kid,_ he mused.

**:**

 After a few minutes, Brienne finally arrived in his office, holding a cup of Joe with her name written on it. Jaime raised an eyebrow as he noticed the writings on the cup.

“They spelled your name wrong,” he told her.

Brienne scrunched up her face in confusion. “They got it right.”

He shook his head and smiled. “No, it’s not. It should be spelled as w-e-n-c-h.”

And that earned him a glare. She put the cup down on top of his clattered desk and dropped the change beside it. More than twenty silver stags poured out of her large, freckly hand.

“Keep the change,” said Jaime with a flick of his wrist.

Once again, Brienne scowled at him. “No thanks.”

“No, I insist. It’s for the trouble.”

“No need, sir.”

“I told you to buy yourself a cup of coffee, too.”

“I don’t like coffee.”

“That’s interesting. I take you for a person who likes black coffee—practically addicted to the bitterest and blackest coffee that exists on Earth.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid you got it wrong, sir.”

“Oh well, I’ll take you for a person who prefers tea, then.”

Brienne sighed, but did not deny nor confirm his assumption.

“Oh c’mon, wench. At least give me a hint.”

Brienne bit back an aggravated growl as her patience continued to run thin—an event which was not entirely new whenever she was with her professor. “My phone, sir.”

“What? Don’t tell me you like the taste of your phone. You do know that phones are not meant to be eaten or drunk,” Jaime taunted as he searched for her phone inside one of his desk’s drawers.

For the _n_ th time that day, Brienne rolled her eyes at his petty mockeries.

“Here you go!” Jaime threw her phone in the air, and she caught it with the reflexes of an athlete.

“Nice catch.”

Brienne simply narrowed her blue eyes on him, not used to hearing his praise. At the back of her head, she was convinced that there was an underlying insult behind that compliment.

“What?” Jaime asked innocently, putting his hand up as if in surrender.

“Thank you, sir,” said she, briskly.

Jaime frowned. “Before you leave, I have a question for you.”

Her silence was permission enough.

“How’s your little experiment?” he asked.

At first, a look of obfuscation clouded Brienne’s face, but as his words sank into her brain, her eyes widened and her wide mouth gaped open. “I haven’t….”

“Oh c’mon. There’s no use lying about it. I know you tried telling someone about it.”

Goosebumps spread up to her arms as she realized that she had no idea how to disguise the panic attack she was having. “I….”

“It did not work, did it?” Jaime snickered.

Brienne frowned.

He chuckled. “I guess not. If it had worked, you would probably be brandishing it in my face today.”

“I see no reason why I should tell anyone about your situation,” she said stiffly.

“Well, I can give you reasons why you would want to disclose it to people, but I can also give you a longer list on why you shouldn’t,” he warned.

“Your implications, sir, are perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

Brienne had not realized that she was clenching her fists so tightly that her nails had bitten the soft flesh of her palms. She was angry, yes, and she felt like settling this matter once and for all through physical force. She did not like this clash of words nor of power. It made her feel stupid, hopeless and helpless.

 _At least he’s not trying to kill you,_ she consoled herself.

 “Last Friday, why did you come back to the classroom?”

“I left something,” she replied, her eyes glued on the floor.

“Is it, by chance, something very important?”

Brienne stared at him, warily. She did not like the way he was leering at her at the present. “Not really.”

“Is it a jacket?”

“Yes.”

Jaime suddenly stood up from his seat, grinning widely like a proud kid who had just figured out a puzzle. “You’re in luck, wench.” He crossed the room, and approached a pile of boxes. There were about five oversized boxes filled with _stuff_ which Brienne could not and would not identify. He rummaged through one of the boxes, throwing some peculiar objects over his shoulder as he searched for something.

“I think….I just have….that jacket you’re looking for….Wait for it….Hmm….Nope….Oh, here it is!”

Jaime straightened up, holding a dark blue windbreaker. “Is this it?”

Brienne eyes’ widened in surprise, feeling a slight tug at the pit of her stomach when her eyes landed on her favorite jacket—the jacket she went to hell for. Too ecstatic to finally reunite with it, she just nodded her head in response.

Jaime grinned. “Here you go. I hope it’s worth it.”

Brienne quickly reached for her jacket, fighting off the warmth that threatened to engulf her freckly face. “T-thank you, sir.”

“No need.”

Jaime noticed the smile that was forcing its way to her face, but the girl’s obstinacy would not allow it.

 _A smile would suit her more than a scowl,_ he mused, fascinated by the wench’s guarded demeanor. He had a feeling that she would snap once she was pushed to her limits. She was so rigid and controlled that it was impossible to decipher her real thoughts and emotions. It’s almost like an illusion. She appears strong and undefeatable, but beneath all those masks, what is she?

_A girl with her own insecurities._

_Wary._

_Lonely._

_Scared._

_Vulnerable._

“Listen, wench, let’s make a truce,” he suddenly suggested, tearing her attention from the dark blue windbreaker.

The sliver of joy he had glimpsed in her a while ago disappeared the very moment he spoke, making him realize how much she probably abhorred him at the present.

_And I care because?_

“You need trust to have a truce,” Brienne mumbled.

Even though her voice was soft when she said it, her eyes defiantly looked back at his, meeting his own green ones without wavering. Her sapphire-like eyes sent a jolt down his spine, and he had absolutely no idea why he was so taken by it. _But they do say that the eyes are the windows of one’s soul, and I’m staring at hers right now,_ he thought. He could see through her—through all her masks, because that pair of sapphires was a book that contained the story of her life—her pains, struggles, determination, goals and herself.

And maybe, it was her eyes that made him say it.

“I trust you.”

**:**

In the days to come after Brienne’s major turning point in life, she found herself always in the company of her _beloved_ professor. It was not like she had a choice in the matter. After all, she was just a student and he was her professor. The power play was too hard not to miss.

“Wench, bring me coffee!”

“Wench, carry my bag!”

“Wench, deliver these files to the admin!”

 “Wench, I need a pen!”

“Wench, I’m hungry. Buy me lunch!”

“Wench, help me sort out my files!”

These were just some of the proverbial lines Jaime uttered every after class. By wench, he specifically meant Brienne.

Every day, without fail, Jaime always found a reason to ask for Brienne’s assistance. His most favorite excuse to dally her time was the “I-need-an-extra-hand-in-carrying-these-stuff-to-my-office” tactic, and of course, who was the most adept person for the job if not the _great beast of a woman_?

“Weeeeeeench, I need you to tie my shoelaces,” Jaime hollered one time as they were walking down the crowded hallway.

Brienne gaped at him, terrified. One would think that he had asked her to take off her clothes just by looking at her horrified expression. He almost chuckled, finding himself genuinely curious to see how she would react if he, indeed, had asked her to take her shirt off.

 _You’ll be charged with sexual harassment, you pedo,_ Jaime scolded himself.

“Shoelaces,” he reminded rather playfully.

“I’m certain, sir, that the gods have given us two hands for a reason,” Brienne hissed through gritted teeth. Her eyes flitted nervously to the other students lingering in the corridor, afraid that they would hear him.

Too late.

A sort of giddiness overwhelmed Jaime when he noticed the usual blush creeping up to her cheeks. “Yes yes, I can see that you have two hands, too.”

Brienne appeared affronted at his flippancy. “Likewise, you also have two.”

“But I’m holding something,” Jaime protested, referring to the pen he was holding in his right hand.

“I’m holding something, too.” Brienne showed him the bag he had asked her to hold to emphasize her point.

“You’re so boring.”

And yet, Jaime finds her company rather amusing. It’s true that she barely says a word in his presence. She only speaks when spoken to, and answers when asked, but she keeps her sentences short and direct to the point. She’s too formal and old fashioned, acting more like an old lady than a twenty-year-old, and yet, her naivety and idyllic fantasy world make her seem younger and more innocent—something which Jaime considers rather endearing.

_And pitiable._

“Hey wench, do you keep a diary?” Jaime asked her one time while she was helping him record some of his other students’ grades.

She shook her head, completely focused on the papers she was holding. Her eyes occasionally glanced up on the computer screen.

While she was doing all the work, Jaime only sat on his swivel chair with both of his feet on top of his desk. He was watching her work, admiring how the light from the computer screen was reflected on her blue eyes. It made her eyes appear lighter and clearer. 

“Why not? Aren’t all girls into writing stuff about their crushes and heartaches?”

“I find no reason to keep a diary,” she answered briefly.

He pouted petulantly. “Your life is so boring, wench.”

She answered him with a steely silence.

He sighed. “But don’t worry, I’m about to make it interesting. I suggest that you go buy yourself a notebook to write on from now on.”

Her back went rigid, and she finally tore her eyes from the screen to meet his emeralds. She glared. “No thanks.”

He grinned with false innocence at her.

Every single day, he pestered her, demonstrating his power over her. Of course, he had not forgotten the real reason why he was annoying the hell out of her in the first place, but sometimes, he would find himself enjoying it immensely that it would eventually slip from his thoughts. The next thing he knew, he was treating her more like his apprentice than a hostage.

There was that one time when Jaime and Brienne were walking down to his office, and one of his colleagues spotted them bickering.

Jaime could hardly remember what they were arguing about, but he was pretty much sure it had something to do with their lesson for that day. As always, he had called out Brienne’s name (wench) for recitation. He had asked for her opinion regarding the actions to be taken by the government during a certain economical situation. Of course, Brienne stammered out an answer (since the poor girl is painfully awkward and shy), and in which Jaime, despite being pleased with her answer, decided to further prod on. With the never-ending “and so” questions, the two of them found themselves stuck in an argument about the pros and cons of Brienne’s answer.

“You do know that you’re too idealistic, right?” Jaime told her, accusingly.

“I’m not being idealistic, sir. It’s just that—.”

“Good afternoon, Lannister,” Petry Baelish greeted, his eyes holding amusement and a silent inquiry as he gazed at the odd pair.

Brienne stiffened upon the intrusion of a new voice, while Jaime merely flashed his lazy smile.

“Good afternoon, Baelish,” said he, rather cheerfully.

“I see you’re having a lively conversation with your student.”

At the corner of Jaime’s eyes, he witnessed the blush that consumed Brienne’s wide face. He could not help but smirk rather triumphantly.

 _Ah-ha! So that’s how I can get you to yield,_ he thought.

“Ah, yes. Miss Tarth here is a rather enlightening conversant.”

This underhanded praise caused more redness on Brienne’s cheeks than before. Without any telepathic abilities, Jaime was certain that she was wishing for the ground to swallow her whole.

“I can’t help notice that the two of you are spending too much time together. I hope you’re not getting too fond of your student.” Baelish’s insinuation was too hard to miss.

Jaime, suddenly irked by Baelish’s prying nature, pulled Brienne closer to his side and draped his right arm over her broad shoulders, safely tucking her to his side. “I’m afraid I am already fond of Miss Tarth here. You see, she’s my protégé.”

Baelish smiled—the type of smile which Jaime loves punching off from people’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure Miss Tarth is very delighted to hear that,” he said, gazing at Brienne’s direction.

The poor girl, on the other hand, was so red in the face that she was hardly recognizable under the heavy blush that graced her features. It softened the glower she was throwing at him, but it did nothing to suppress the dark atmosphere radiating around her. She was about to deny everything Jaime had said, but the spawn of evil interrupted her.

“She is very pleased indeed. She rather enjoys my company, if you haven’t noticed. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Miss Tarth and I have some _things_ to do,” Jaime said, rather sweetly.

It sickened Brienne how Jaime made it sound so suspiciously wrong in her ears. The slightest thought of what Baelish must had picked up on his statement deeply distraught her.

Once again, she opened her mouth to defend herself, but Jaime pulled her away from Baelish as fast as she could blink.

“What was that?” she spat out angrily.

“Shhhh. He’s still there.”

“I don’t care.”

“You know, if you make a scene, he might start suspecting we’re doing something that is not so innocent,” he warned lowly. His face was set in a grave expression, and Brienne was suddenly aware that she was frightened by that look.

“I think you did just that,” she snapped.

He grinned at her.

Somewhere deep inside Jaime, some unknown force stirred. He did not like the way Baelish leered at Brienne. It was a queer, sort of greedy look on his face, and Jaime was bothered by it, quickly becoming quite protective over the girl.

“Protégé? Really?” Brienne complained as soon as they were inside his office.

He beamed proudly at her. “I know right. I’m such a genius for coming up with that idea.”

“No.”

For the past weeks, Jaime had started to notice the subtle changes in Brienne’s demeanor. In the first few days, she never dared say a word in his presence unless she was coerced to. As time progressed and a little push on Jaime’s side, she was slowly starting to be vocal about her opinions, but her sentences were brisk and terse. The only thing that could force her to be more vocal was whenever she was annoyed, upset or aghast, but even then, Jaime had to use his undeniable expertise in provoking people in order to prod her on with her words.

As much as he hated to admit it, he found himself fascinated with Brienne’s mind. Her opinions were always calculated and well thought, but they were all ruled with emotions and compassion. At first glance, one would think that Brienne was all logic and rationality, but her empathic nature dominated her sense of reason.

“Well, what do you want me to say? That we’re friends? Chums? Or do you prefer lovers?” Jaime snickered.

Brienne grimaced at his suggestion. “I’ll pretend that I did not hear that.”

Jaime guffawed.

Placing his bag on top of his desk, Brienne glanced hastily on her wristwatch. “Well then, sir, good bye,” she piped.

“What good bye? You have to help me with these first,” Jaime said, gesturing to a pile of papers that was currently terrorizing his desk.

“It’s Friday, sir. I have fencing practice,” she informed him.

 _Ah yes. Friday,_ Jaime thought rather bitterly.

Even though he had the privilege of having Brienne’s company almost most of the time, the only time he could never have her was during Fridays, because Friday meant fencing practice, and since she was being a good girl (keeping mum about his little secret), he would not meddle with her extracurricular activity. After all, her passion for fencing had given her the chance to continue her studies.

“Okay, fine. Leave me here to suffer alone,” Jaime dramatically said, clutching his chest in the process.

Brienne rolled her eyes and headed straight for the door.

“You ungrateful brute!” he shouted after her as she closed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would want to grab this opportunity to explain the sudden change of the title. As you can see, my story is no longer entitled "Everyone Loves Pie" (because I honestly have no idea what hit me when I typed that down), but is now called "Often Go Awry". I can go on and on with the reasons why I chose that title, but suffice to say, I'm merely struck with a line from Robert Burn's poem, To a Mouse. And that's that.
> 
> I'm just so depressed guys.
> 
> Song for the day: Alone Together by Fall Out Boys


	5. WE'VE GOT TONIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just call someone else then. You don’t have to drag me into one of your hedonistic escapades,” Brienne hissed, but somewhere at the deepest recesses of Brienne’s brain, she was tempted to say yes. The thrill of accepting Jaime’s invitation was undeniable. She could just imagine the crossroads of possibilities once she agreed. It was just a short word—one syllable and three letters. It would not be too hard to utter it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm baaaack.
> 
> First of all, I would like to thank the people who commented on the previous chapter. Your words are very touching, and it undeniably cheered me up. You guys are the best, and I don't know how my gratitude can be enough to show how important your words are to me.
> 
> And for those who kudoed, thank you for reading this fic.
> 
> Lastly, for my silent readers, I just want to say hello. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter five!

Part Five: WE’VE GOT TONIGHT

Someone was following Brienne and she was certain of it.

No, she was not paranoid or delusional—nor was she in the verge of a breakdown. She just knew that there was someone lurking behind her as she had her evening jog.

For the past hour, Brienne was on the streets, doing her usual evening exercise. She always preferred jogging during the evenings instead of the mornings. Maybe it was the solitude that attracted her to make it her _thing_ , but then again, her way of thinking had always been different compared to normal human beings.

During her jog, she was aware of a black car slinking in and out of her view. At first, she thought that she had been seeing a bunch of different black cars roaming the streets, but she later realized that it was the exact same car. Brienne has this natural gift to remember things especially if it concerns numbers, and so when the car passed by her for the third time, she knew it was the same car. The plate number was a dead giveaway.

The hair on her arm stood as she came to the plausible conclusion that she was being stalked like a prey. It was then that she decided to change her usual route and stay clear of deserted area. She was confident that she was strong enough to confront her stalker, but she was not stupid enough either. So many things could go wrong in a fight.

Brienne threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulders, noting the two orbs of headlights shining amidst the dark. It was the black car again.

_And that’s pretty much the twentieth time it passed by,_ she thought, hastening her pace a bit. She watched the car turn to a corner, but she knew that it was coming back for her later. At least the car was merely following her. It could have been worse—like being mugged along the streets or being kidnapped.

_Or killed._

_Thanks, Brienne, for scaring yourself._

Even though she was not tired yet, Brienne decided to head back to her apartment before the black car could reappear again. She would not want to take any chances.

**:**

Two months.

For two _long_ months, Brienne had been under Jaime’s agonizing watch. She was a good girl during that time, heeding his every command no matter how stupid they were, and she was still keeping mum about his precious secret after her failure to divulge it to her friend, Loras. In exchange for that, Jaime assured her that he was not going to sabotage her academics and her extracurricular activities. In fact, he was becoming much tolerable now that they had come up with a truce.

So far. So good.

Until the car came into the picture. Unbeknownst to her, it was only just the beginning.

Brienne was never afflicted with paranoia before, but she wasn’t blind either. The next day after seeing the black car, she noticed an old, fat lady following her around in the market while she was buying groceries. At first, she appeared harmless, smiling politely at Brienne when they first passed by, but Brienne started feeling uncomfortable after spotting her peering furtively at her direction while pretending to examine a bottle of ketchup. When Brienne gazed at her, the old woman hastily looked away and moved to the next shelf.

It would have been alright if it happened only once. Unfortunately, it didn’t.

Brienne had almost lost count. The old woman tailed behind her as insistently as a scratch on her back, and no matter how good she was at hiding behind the shelves, Brienne knew. Years of being subjective to people’s wondering eyes had taught her to be sensitive of their stares.

On that bright Saturday, Brienne had noticed other strange people following her around wherever she went. Before the old woman in the grocery, there was this cyclist who kept glancing at her direction as she jogged around the park that early morning. Even though he was wearing a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses, she knew he was watching her. Her spidey-sense was tingling, and that was evidence enough. And anyway, who would wear sunglasses at the crack of dawn?

On Sunday, it was a hobo who was trailing behind her as she walked home from the library. His rattling cart was definitely too loud to miss (unless you’re deaf). After scaring the poor man with her threatening glare, he was immediately replaced by a kid who was harmlessly skateboarding along the sidewalk.

She knew it was absurd to suspect the kid, but likewise, he was giving off a very bad vibe as he followed behind her on his skateboard. The sound of its wheels scraping against the asphalt irritated Brienne, but her soft-heartedness would not allow her to yell at him. He was just a kid after all.

_Maybe I am getting paranoid,_ she mused, almost laughing at her own assumption.

The next thing she knew, she was also starting to be suspicious of a black alley cat who was watching her menacingly as she made her way back to her apartment.

_Yup, definitely paranoia._

**:**

Sansa was not at the apartment when Brienne returned, and it worried her. She knew it was pointless to be anxious about the Stark girl’s absence, but then, she remembered the black car, the old lady, the cyclist and those creepy people (not to mention the black cat), and her disquiet heightened.

As soon as she put down the books she had borrowed from the library, she picked up her phone and dialed Sansa’s number.

“Hey Brienne!” Sansa greeted zealously.

“Where are you?” Brienne asked rather tersely.

“I’m at the Tyrell’s. I was just about to call you and tell you that Margaery asked me to sleepover at their place. We have to finish our report and…”

“I understand. It’ll be dangerous for you to go home at night.”

“Well, Loras can drive me home if you don’t want to be alone…”

“Nah. It’s alright. I’m a big girl, Sansa. I can take care of myself.”

“There’s dinner in the fridge. It’s lasagna.”

Brienne smiled. “I’ll probably starve without you.”

“I know,” said Sansa.

Brienne placed her phone back to her pocket and went over to the fridge to heat up her dinner. True enough, Sansa had left a whole platter of lasagna inside the refrigerator. Before she could even reach for it, Brienne heard a familiar tone. It was soft at first, barely registering to her ears, but it got louder and louder until she realized that she was hearing the Star Wars theme song.

_What the hell…._

She whirled around, searching for the source of sound. The television and the stereo were turned off, and her laptop was at her room. The last object that could possibly play that song was her…

_Phone._

She hastily retrieved it from her pocket, finally becoming aware of the vibration against her thigh. Her eyes narrowed on the name appearing on the screen. It said, “The Master”.

Brienne knew no one with that name—if it was even a name in the first place.

“Hello?”

“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCH!”

The voice at the other end of the line was so loud it actually burst her eardrums.

“S-sir,” Brienne stuttered.

_Tell me why I am not surprised._

“Where are you?”

Brienne rolled her eyes disdainfully. “Are you drunk?”

“Not yet, but I’m planning to. Would you like to join me?”

“Sir, might I remind you that tomorrow is a Monday.”

“And so?”

“It’s high inappropriate to drink tonight sir.”

“Said who? You? You’re just a kid.”

“And you’re my professor, making it even more impertinent.”

“Oh. That’s a fancy word.”

Brienne was starting to doubt Jaime’s credibility as a professor. “Good bye, sir.”

“NOOOOO. Wait wait! I need someone to drive me home.”

“I can’t drive.”

“Gods, wench, you’re like twenty-one. All people in that age bracket know how to drive.”

“I’m twenty years old.”

“That’s what I said.”

Brienne almost groaned in frustration. “Are you sure you’re not drunk yet?” she asked.

“Nope. Nope. Definitely still sober,” he reassured her.

Well, his words weren’t slurred, and he sounded as annoying as he always was so it did not make much of a difference.

“Have someone else drive you home. Call a cab or something,” Brienne suggested.

“I don’t trust cabbies, and I brought my car with me. You can’t expect me to just leave my baby in the parking lot….ALONE IN THE COLD.”

Brienne heaved a sigh. “I expect you to act like an adult.”

“I am already acting like an adult. If I’m not, I would just drive home by myself even if I’ m pissed drunk,” he pointed out.

“Just call someone else then. You don’t have to drag me into one of your hedonistic escapades,” Brienne hissed, but somewhere at the deepest recesses of Brienne’s brain, she was tempted to say yes. The thrill of accepting Jaime’s invitation was undeniable. She could just imagine the crossroads of possibilities once she agreed. It was just a short word—one syllable and three letters. It would not be too hard to utter it.

_What possibilities, Brienne? What the hell are you talking about?_

“I’m doing it right now,” said Jaime in his coy tone.

“Call your sister or something.”

Brienne could never bring herself to say Cersei’s name out loud, and she had no idea why. Whenever Cersei’s name crossed her mind, Brienne would feel squirmy and listless all of a sudden. The vivid memory of their first encounter would bring turmoil of mixed emotions in Brienne. It reminded her of how much trouble she was in.

There was a pause, and Brienne was not entirely certain if there was an alienated strain in that brief lull. For a split a second, she was afraid that she had said something that angered him.

“H-hello?” she stammered.

“I’m afraid my sweet sister is too busy with something else, wench,” he stated bluntly.

Brienne suppressed a sigh of relief before answering back. “Then just don’t drink.”

“Too late. I already drank two bottles of vodka.”

“Already? But it’s only eight in the evening.”

“I’m on my third,” he informed her. “So either I drive home drunk or you’re going to save me from my imminent death.”

“Where are you?”

_Damn, Brienne._

“Harrenhal. You know, the famous bar owned by the goddamn Lannisters. Oh wait, I’m a Lannister.”

Brienne knew that place. It was a very famous spot for equally famous people in King’s Landing. The likes of Brienne were practically banned from getting in. One needed to be filthy rich or extremely well-known to even enter that stupid place, and only members were allowed to get in. “Are you kidding me? How can I get inside Harrenhal when I barely have money to pay the rent by myself?”

“Is that a yes, then?” he asked, sounding so hopeful Brienne almost said yes.

“No.”

“C’mon, wench. You won’t let your beloved professor to be alone tonight. Look at the stars, kiddo, they’re beckoning you to come out of your hole and…”

“No.”

“ _I know it’s late. I know you’re weary. I know your plans don’t include me.”_

“Are you singing?”

“Yes. In the hopes of seducing you.”

“You’re doing the exact opposite.”

“I bet you’re blushing right now,” he purred.

Brienne shuddered, cursing herself for being so affected by his voice—the way it went low and almost breathy. Her breath hitched just by the reminiscence of his lips ghosting over her ear. He was not even there, goddamn it, and yet he had this effect on her that made her stomach do somersaults and a bunch of other acrobatic stuff. “No.”

“COME AND GET ME WENCH!”

She had not noticed it, but her face was getting so warm that she almost expected to see steam rise from it. “I’m going to eat dinner, read a nice book and pretend that this conversation never happened.”

“Aw, wench, you won’t do that, I know that you can’t resist me,” he drawled.

“Wanna bet?”

“Ungrateful brute,” he shot back. “Just come here before I decidto burn all your papers and intentionally lose the record of your grades.”

“You won’t dare.”

“Trust me, I’m very daring.”

Brienne bit her lower lip, tasting the coppery taste of her own blood. “You won’t do that.”

“Let’s ee….”

“Harrenhal, right?”

There was a pause, and Brienne could clearly picture his cocky grin on his face.

“That’s my wench. Now don’t be late.”

And with that, he hanged up. Only the monotonous beeping echoed back to Brienne’s speaker, making her aware of the stampede raging in her chest.

_We’re going to have so much fun,_  said Jaime-voice.

_Yeah, so much fun,_ Brienne thought drily.

The lasagna would have to wait.

**:**

When Brienne arrived at Harrenhal, she was awestruck by the people going in and out of the club. Obviously, they were no ordinary citizens of Westeros.  There was a long line of Limousines at the main entrance, and gorgeous women wearing the most expensive dresses imaginable stepped out of it, escorted by men who also wore priceless suits. Brienne’s wide, blue eyes absently trailed after faces which she only saw in the television. There were actors, actresses, politicians and a bunch of other fancy-looking people, passing by without even taking notice of her presence.

_So if someone wants to hit the jackpot in just one night, he only has to go here and plant a bomb,_ she thought darkly.

And there she was, standing like a fool with neon lights pointing at her and saying, “Outsider alert.” She suddenly felt very foolish for agreeing to get caught up with this, cursing Jaime in the most creative ways imaginable. Her large, white shirt and wrinkled jeans made her feel small and conspicuous amid the crowd of elegantly dressed icons.

_This is stupid. Who cares if he drives home pissed drunk?_

_Your grades,_ Jaime-voice reminded her.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

As if on cue, her phone started playing out the Star Wars theme again, startling her.

“Where are you, wench?” Jaime slurred.

“You’re drunk.”

“Nope. I swear to drunk that I’m not God.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “I’m standing right outside of Harrenhal. It’s time for you to get out of there and go home.”

“Come and get me,” he teased, hanging up.

Brienne stared incredulously at her phone as if it was Jaime. Her grip around it tightened, threatening to break it in half. “Stupid oaf.”

Her biggest problem was, at the very moment, not about how to survive an hour’s drive with a very drunk Jaime, but how to get inside this prestigious place. Look at her. She practically looked like an ugly hobo compared to these guys. And she probably was.

_C’mon Brienne. Just think of this as a daily occurrence. You’re going inside that bar, brave out those nasty stares, and get it over with. It isn’t that hard. You’re immune to those looks._

“Excuse me, sir, you have to show me your pass,” the guard at the entrance said, blocking her path. He had long, lanky hair that covered the huge scar on his face. Looking closer at it, the scar covered half of it, making him appear grotesque to look upon.

The man was terribly huge and brawny, but Brienne could almost match him in terms of size.

“I don’t have one,” Brienne told him, stiffly. Her palms were sweating profusely, and several profane words entered her head. Her nervousness had made her overlook the guard’s mistake in indentifying her gender. Nevertheless, shewas used to the confusion.

“I’m afraid you cannot enter, then.”

“But I am here to fetch Mr. Lannister.”

The guard eyed her warily, his eyes traveling from her head to her toes. “You’re the wench?”

Brienne cringed. It was funny how she was so used to hearing it from Jaime’s lips, but was alienated to it once it passed from a different person’s lips. It was like a slap on her face, reminding her that it was an insulting nickname.

The man peered closely at her. “You’re a woman?”

_Barely_.

“I’m Brienne Tarth,” said she in a dignified voice, raising her chin slightly up.

The man laughed. “By Gods, I thought he was only drunk when he described you to me. It seems like he’s telling the truth after all.”

Brienne scowled at him. She bet she did not want to know how Jaime had described her to him.

“C’mon in. Your master is apparently drinking himself to death,” he informed her.

“He’s not my master.”

“But you’re his protégé.”

_Doesn’t mean he’s my master._

The guard unobstructed her path and opened the door for her. The deafening thump of the bass spilled out from it, and Brienne could hear the tsunami of voices coming from inside. The overpowering smell of alcohol and cigar wafted in the air, and she crinkled her nose in disgust.

“Where is he?” Brienne asked.

“Probably at the second floor. Dying.”

She grimaced. “Thanks.”

As soon as she stepped inside the building, Brienne instantly felt small and insignificant. Harrenhal did not look like a club. No. it looked more like a castle of doom.

It was dark, but there were so many lights at the same time. It flashed, rotated, blinked—the lights were just all over the place, and it hurt her eyes. All the colors in the color wheel rained upon her, dizzying her as she pushed pass the crowd. Their signature perfumes suffocated her, and Brienne had the strongest urge to bolt.

Once again, the people did not mind her one bit, and she was grateful for their indifference. When she reached the stairs, she groaned in frustration. There were so many people draped on the steps, doing the most vulgar things. Brienne had to resist the urge to cover her eyes like a kid.

“Excuse me,” Brienne mumbled as she tried her best not to step on a couple who was locked into a very tight embrace. She almost yelped when she realized that they were two guys. “S-sorry.”

Climbing that stairs was harder than climbing Eyrie itself.

“Sorry. Pardon me. Excuse me.”

Being the graceful being Brienne was, she had made it through the stairs unscathed. Nonetheless, she could not guarantee the condition of the others. So far, she had stepped on six hands and eight toes. She even kicked someone’s head, making her wonder how the hell she did it.

Once she was on the second floor, she was wheezing like an old man. To her horror, the upper floor was as crowded and rowdy as the first floor, but at least the people here preferred sitting on booths instead of roaming around, making it easier for Brienne to navigate her way around the club.

_As soon as I find that bastard, I will wring his neck like a rag, and I’ll make him eat his own foot,_ she promised herself.

“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCH!”

Brienne winced at the nickname, slowly turning around to see Jaime sitting arrogantly on a very long couch, surrounded by six blonde women. She suspected that all of them were models by just the way they crossed their long legs as they sat. Both of his arms were draped around the shoulders of the two blondes beside him, but he immediately withdrew them as soon as he spotted her in the crowd.

“You stand out like an apple among oranges,” he snickered as soon as she reached him. A livid look graced her dull features, and even under the dim lights, her blush was noticeable. It made him grin. “A very red apple. You know, the delicious ones are always the reddest ones.”

Brienne glared at him. “C’mon. You’re going home.”

“Sit down, wench,” Jaime barked.

The sharpness in his tone startled Brienne, and her body automatically obliged, sitting on the seat across him. Six pairs of eyes watched her in silence, judging her physique under the flashing rainbow lights. She knew what these girls were thinking even without hearing them.

_I’m surprise they can even think,_ Jaime-voice said.

For once, she was happy to hear his quips inside her head.

The real Jaime, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. “Not there. Here.” He patted the small space between him and the blonde girl with a very huge chest.

“ I….No,” said Brienne firmly.

The women giggled all together, reminding her of a pack of hyenas.

“Oh, go away. The little lady does not like being stared at by brainless bitches. Shoo.” Jaime waved his hand dismissively at the models around him.  

Their faces were priceless. Six mouths gaped open and six pairs of eyes almost bulged out of their respective sockets. Brienne had to smother the guffaw that threatened to burst out of her lips.

No matter how indignant the six models were, they spared themselves from further humiliation by leaving the area, one by one. All of them were still gaping at the freakishly huge woman, complaining loudly as they went. Once they were gone, Jaime leaned back on the sofa and languidly draped his arms over it.

“Now move,” he told her.

“No thanks. My father has taught me not to sit beside drunk men,” Brienne stated, gazing at him warily.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not drunk? I haven’t even started yet.”

Brienne raised an eyebrow. “But you sound drunk.”

“It’s called acting, Brienne.”

The way her name rolled out of his tongue so casually and meticulously sent a shiver down Brienne’s spine. Her face flared, and she almost choked on her own saliva.

“Now, let’s drink!”

Brienne opened her mouth to protest, but Jaime beat her to it.

“Say no one more time, Brienne, and I swear to the gods that I will kiss you.”

Brienne forgot how to breathe, and her heart tripled its pace. For a moment there, the club music sounded so far away, and the people around her seemed to melt. All she could concentrate on was the blood rushing up to her face.

_It's the alcohol. His inebriety is causing him to sound gibberish._

Jaime smirked. “Better. Now, close your mouth, wench. You look like a codfish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON REPEAT: WE'VE GOT TONIGHT BY Bob Seger  
> (But I prefer Phillip Phillips' rendition of the song better)


	6. WHAT HURTS THE MOST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So the mystery of Jaime's drunkenness is finally revealed in this chapter. Yey! Thank you so much for bearing with my eccentricities--even going as far as reading chapter six. For those who are looking for Cersei, well, this is close enough. 
> 
> Anyway, here it goes! 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

Part Six: WHAT HURTS THE MOST

He called it “bonding” time between bros—a time to know more about each other. Brienne, on the other hand, violently digressed. First of all, she was not a _bro_. Secondly, this was not bonding. This was pure agony at its finest.

“Drink up, Brienne,” Jaime urged as he poured some alcoholic poison unto her glass.

She shook her head. “I'll be driving later. I can't afford to be intoxicated.”

“Killjoy,” he muttered under his breath, taking the cup that was supposedly for Brienne. He took a savoring swig on it, burping after the process. “And this is why I chose you for my company tonight.”

Her retaliation was a raised eyebrow.

It was funny how people often took the “raised-eyebrow” tactic as sign to expound on their statement. Jaime sighed dramatically, as if he was about to explain a very simple concept to a one-year-old. He probably was, considering it was Brienne he was talking to at the moment.

“I know you won't be tempted to drink with me since your sense of honor prevents you from doing so, and thus, you are the most trustworthy person I know who'll straighten me up, drive me home unscathed without any intentions of raping me,” he told her, raising his glass in midair. “A toast.”

“For what?” she grumbled, hiding the blush that crept up to her neck.

“For the damsel saving the shining knight in distress,” Jaime yelled.

For a moment there, Brienne was afraid that everyone in the vicinity heard Jaime’s intoxicated roar. She hastily glanced around hoping that everybody was too busy basking in the rowdiness of the club. Fortunately, only a handful was staring at them, their eyes glazed from too much consumption of their heavenly poison.

“Keep your voice down,” Brienne hissed, glaring at him in the hopes of scaring him off, but this was Jaime Lannister. He never wavers.

“What? Afraid that people might see you with me?”

Brienne was about to say no, but Jaime-voice reminded her of Jaime’s threat a few seconds ago. This coerced her to shut her mouth instead.

“Now, the toast,” Jaime urged petulantly only to realize that Brienne had no glass to toast with. Rolling his eyes, he called out for a glass of milk.

“Milk?” Brienne stared at him incredulously.

“You love that stuff, remember? You’re practically a lactose-junkie.”

As much as Brienne abhorred admitting it, she was amused by Jaime’s observation. She was not a lactose-junkie (since she doubts that the word even exists in the first place), but she absolutely adores drinking milk.

“You always bring a carton of it in my class,” Jaime raved on, sloshing his drink as he flailed his arms to emphasize his point.

When the glass of milk magically arrived—because, really, how can a glass of milk be available in a club—Jaime thrust it to Brienne and hollered, “For the damsel and the glorious knight in distress!”

Brienne grimaced, refusing to clink her glass to his.

“Weeench,” Jaime drawled, eyeing her glass.

Sighing, she obliged.

“How’s your weekend?” Jaime asked as soon as Brienne gulped down the entire content of her drink. She almost spurted out the white colloid, and she had no idea why.

“Oh, it’s great. It seems like I’ve acquired a number of fans. You probably have met them,” said she, sarcastically.

 “Fans? Do I hear sarcasm in your tone, young lady?” Jaime cocked his head to one side, a look of concern crossing his handsome features. His green eyes were intently glued on her as if he was solving a very difficult puzzle.

“Don’t act ignorant. You know what I’m talking about.”

Unfortunately, Jaime did not. He looked so confused and lost with what she was saying, and it caused Brienne to start doubting herself. And yet, her mind was encouraging her to stay strong. Jaime had said it himself a while ago. He could act.

“Close your mouth, sir. You look like a codfish,” Brienne muttered almost to herself, feeling the irritation seeping through her very bones.

“I swear to the gods, Brienne. I do not know what you’re talking about,” Jaime stated, raising his right hand up while his left one drew a cross upon his chest. “I swear.”

Brienne narrowed her blue eyes on him, trying to pinpoint any signs of his façade, but who was he kidding? She was a dyslexic when it came to reading people’s faces—let alone Jaime’s.

Jaime, in turn, scrutinized her face, forgetting that he was supposed to be drunk. “You mean to say that there are people following you around? Are they, by chance, paparazzi?”

Brienne glowered at him, a faint blush tainting her cheeks. “I’m serious. If this is your idea of a prank, I suggest you drop it. It’s not funny.”

But Jaime did not look amuse either. He had momentarily forgotten his glass of vodka, leaving it an inch away from his lips. His green eyes hardened, and his whole body became tensed. Brienne did not like his peculiar behavior at all. It seemed like having him dead drunk is better than seeing him all rigid.

“Cersei,” he breathed. Brienne would have missed the name leaving his mouth, but she saw the distinct way it was formed in his lips. It made her wonder how he could make it sound so intimate and obscene at the same time. He almost said it like a prayer and a curse. The conflict was so evident in his eyes alone that the strongest urge to look away overwhelmed Brienne.

But what really surprised her was how exhausted Jaime looked after uttering his twin’s name. His green eyes lacked its usual mischievous glint, and some lines started to appear on his chiseled face—lines that were not there when they first met. There was a despairing and haunting look in his face, and Brienne could not help but be sucked into it.

“You’re not drunk yet,” Brienne blurted out.

No. He was barely drunk. Maybe he was heading there, but it was not enough to drown whatever suffering he was going through.

“What gave me away?” he sneered.

“Your eyes.”

If only the situation was not as somber as it looked, Brienne would have done the greatest face palm that existed on Earth.

Jaime’s eyes widened, mimicking her blue ones. Neither of them knew which of them was more surprised by her answer. As if the gods were having too much fun, the Cheshire-like grin appeared on Jaime’s face, making Brienne more uncomfortable than before.

 _That smile should be illegal,_ she thought rather sullenly.

“It’s flattering to know that you’re checking me out,” he taunted.

She knew that she should have retaliated by saying something extremely witty, but she was no Lannister. She was just plain Brienne. The wittiest thing she could possibly come up at a situation like this was a blush.

“But seriously speaking, I’m not the one behind all this stalking nonsense,” said Jaime so suddenly that Brienne almost choked on nothing.

“Cersei?”

He took a long swig on his drink, grimacing as the liquid seemingly burned his throat. “Having someone stalked is not my thing. It stinks of her.”

Brienne frowned, not at all surprised at Jaime’s presumption. Who else could possibly take an interest on her? She was, after all, of no importance. The only thing that made her an interesting prey was her knowledge of Jaime’s secret.

 _It’s her secret, too, idiot,_ Jaime-voice reminded her.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, wench. She just does not trust anyone,” Jaime tried reassuring.

But by the look on his face, he failed.

“Cersei—she’s become paranoid over the years,” he explained, his gaze dropping on the floor.

And it all suddenly clicked inside Brienne’s head. She finally understood what was causing all these. It was all about Cersei. He was hurting because of her, and she had no idea why she was being dragged into this.

_Because you know._

“Cersei was not like this before, though,” Jaime went on, almost as if he was only talking to himself. “She has always been more like me—I guess, a LOT like me. And then, she grew up, and I grew up. Society dictates that she needs to do this and that because she was not born with a dick, and I, on the other hand, has to do this and that since I’m the one who has the dick everyone’s so fond of.”

_Really, Jaime, make up your mind. Are you drunk or not?_

“And since she’s the one who does not have the dick, she’s the one who’s viewed as the weakest among the Lannister children. She hates it, you know, to be considered weak, and it’s because of this anger that she’s becoming hostile towards everyone around her. She thinks that the whole world is conspiring against her back all because she’s a girl.” Jaime glared at the poor, innocent floor, his green eyes drilling holes on it.

“I don’t have a dick either,” Brienne stated.

Once again, the ultimate face palm.

Jaime chuckled. “Oh really? Let’s see what’s underneath your jeans just to make sure.”

The familiar heat engulfed her face, and this had nothing to do with the temperature. Some unknown entity seemed to coil and writhe inside Brienne’s stomach, disabling her from meeting his gaze. This was one of those moments when Brienne wished that she was gifted with a Lannister’s sharp tongue.

“That is sexual harassment, sir,” Brienne informed him rather stiffly.

“No, wench. That’s a joke. Geez, loosen up a bit.”  
  
“I’m trying,” she snapped. “You are drunk.”

Jaime shook his head. “This is only my fifth glass—not enough to knock me out.”

“I thought…”

“I lied, wench. It exists, you know. Liars are real,” he told her, a look of anger clouding up his face. Brienne had a feeling that he was slowly returning the topic back to Cersei.

“You know what’s funny?” he asked, pouring some more vodka unto his glass.

Once again, Brienne was about to answer no only to remember Jaime’s threat.

_No no, Brienne. Goddamn it._

“What?”

“I lie on a lot of things and broke a lot of vows, but I never broke the promise I made to her.”

 _I don’t see anything hilarious about that,_ Brienne thought sardonically.

“When we were younger, right before college, we promised each other that we’ll only have each other. But a few months after that promise was made, Cersei dated a random guy. It enraged me—absolutely made me angry. I wanted to strangle that man—cut his hands off whenever he touched Cersei. Do you know what Cersei told me?”

Brienne, once again, was about to say no, but her highly sensitive alarms blared.

“She told me that people might start suspecting if neither of us date in public.”

_Well, the woman has a point._

“She told me that she cannot love him the way she loves me. At the end of the day, it has always been just the two of us.”

Brienne would be lying if she said that she was perfectly fine with the topic. Hell no. She wasn’t. There was a gut-twisting being inside her stomach as Jaime spoke, and it baffled her. Was that disdain or pity? If one was only to read this conversation, he or she would not be able to hear how his voice cracked and the thousands of emotions in his voice. It overwhelmed Brienne, and it moved her. As if a beam of light casted itself upon Jaime, Brienne could finally see what he was behind that sarcastic, sadistic professor façade of his.

He was a hopelessly romantic guy with a doomed love story.

“I never had any woman aside from Cersei. I just can’t imagine myself being with someone else besides her. But she….she’s…too afraid.”

His eyebrows furrowed tensely  as he stared at the ground. His grip around his glass tightened as the tsunami of emotions threatened to spill out of him. Out of frustration and partly of inebriety, he threw the glass. It shattered into a million pieces.

“Fuck society. Fuck the gods. Fuck my dad. And fuck Cersei. I would take her in front of everyone, defy the gods and forget about father if only she would allow me to.”

Something cold and perverse ran down on Brienne’s back as the dreadful feeling of being watched waved over her. Her eyes darted nervously at her sides, checking if there was anyone within hearing range. “I don’t think it’s wise to talk about this in public,” she whispered.

“Damn it, wench. You’re ruining the moment.” Jaime roughly grabbed for another glass and filled it with vodka. He gulped the content down, grimacing as the substance burned down his throat. “I think I need something stronger.”

Brienne was clueless when it came to alcohols. She never touched that stuff since she considered it very unhealthy and deadly. In fact, she had never experienced being around an intoxicated guy before this, and so she absolutely had no idea how she could know if Jaime was already having too much. A surge of panic went to her when she started to fret over the possibility of having his system poisoned by too much alcohol intake.

It was feasible.

“Take my car when you go home. I don’t like you walking back to your flat alone,” Jaime told her as soon as he calmed down. His breathing was even, no longer heaving. His green eyes softened as he looked at her.

Brienne winced. “I’m going to be alright.”

“I won’t take no, Brienne. Take the goddamn car. You can just return it to me tomorrow,” said Jaime with the tone of a stern commanding officer. It reminded Brienne a bit of her father, Selwyn Tarth.

She would have protested and argued with him, but something held her back. The thought of Jaime being concerned about her despite of his emotional turmoil struck her as something really endearing. The old bloke was actually worried about her, and here she was, doting on her pride instead of appreciating his efforts to be chivalrous.

“F-fine,” she stammered, looking away from him.

“Let’s go. The heat is killing me,” Jaime suddenly suggested, jumping up to his feet and pulling her along with him.

Brienne recoiled at the contact, and tried to pry her arm from his grasp. Still, he held on to her, his nails digging to her wrist.

“You're want to go home?” Brienne asked warily as he eased their way through the noisy crowd.

He shrugged.

Brienne tried shaking his hand off her, but he was being persistent. “My dad told me never to trust a drunk—“

“I’m not yet drunk, wench,” he hissed.

Brienne cringed at his words, not entirely believing him. He had been drinking a lot while talking a while ago. It was impossible not to get drunk by then.

“Watch it, you bitch,” someone shouted brusquely at Brienne.

Confused, she turned around and faced the man who insulted her. Her sapphires widened with the shock of being labeled as such. “Pardon me?”

A thin, hideous looking dark-haired man with a goatee was leering at her. “Oh. Wow. A giantess. Didn’t know they still exist at this time and space.”

Brienne, used to hearing this kind of remark, remained composed. “I apologize for whatever inconvenience I caused you.”

The man rolled his eyes. “You stepped on my foot, you whore. Do you think your sorry can even make up for this?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes on him, trying to distract herself with the distinctive goatee on his chin. Somehow, this guy reminded her of a goat. _A very ugly goat._

Jaime, like the knight he always assumed to be, stepped in between Brienne and the goatee-man. His face was distorted with irk. One would almost think that he was the one being insulted instead of Brienne.

“What did you say, Locke?” he growled, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt.

Locke grinned maniacally. “Is this your whore, Lannister? Where in seven hells did you find her?”

“Apologize to her,” Jaime said, bristling.

“Her? I think 'it' is a more appropriate term to call that beast behind—“

Before the Locke guy could finish his sentence, Jaime’s balled fist collided with his face. Locke staggered back, losing his balance along the way and landing on his butt. His nose looked bizarrely broken, and it was bleeding profusely. His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he stared incredulously at Jaime.

Gasps erupted from the crowd around them, but the music still played on as if nothing happened.

“Fuck you, Lannithter,” he wailed, nursing his broken nose.

Jaime glowered mruderously at him. “Apologize.”

Locke glared back, and then at Brienne. The defiance was clear. He would not yield.

Jaime, on the other hand, was not in the mood to accept such insolence from him. He pounced on him, pinning him on the floor with his knee on his chest. His hand gripped Locke’s shirt tightly, threatening to throttle him.

For one wildest second, Brienne thought that Jaime would, indeed, strangle the man to death, but he punched him again on the face instead.

“Thop it. I yield. I yield,” Locked screamed before Jaime could land another punch to his face.

“Say it,” he snarled.

It was a fearsome sight to behold, and it certainly took Brienne’s breath away. The reminiscence of the crippled boy came into her mind, and she shuddered. _This is the man who pushed a boy off a tower._

Brienne, afraid that things might get out of hand, stepped forward and tentatively placed a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “Stop it, Jaime. He’s not worth it.”

She felt him tensed up beneath her touch. His clenched fist froze in midair as he was prepared to strike Locke once more, but she saw him slackened upon hearing her voice. His face softened, and his green eyes brightened up once again. It fascinated Brienne as how a spell seemed to be lifted off of Jaime at that précised moment.

“Let’s go,” she went on, her voice so soft and tender it almost sounded motherly.

Jaime’s breathing returned to normal, and his arm fell back to his side. With one scathing glare directed at Locke, he got off him. “Apologize.” This time, his voice was softer and more controlled.

“Thorry,” Locke mumbled, scowling at Brienne.

She ignored him, grabbed Jaime by the arm and led him out of the blasted place, ignoring the stares from the others.

At the dark recesses of her brain, she was dying.

**:**

“You don’t have to punch him for me. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself,” said Brienne as soon as she slipped in to the comfy driver’s seat of Jaime’s expensive car. She felt so out of place inside the elegant Cadillac that she was too afraid to touch anything. Sitting there and feeling awkward, Brienne focused on Jaime instead of the car.

“You just called me Jaime,” he mused, shrugging off her previous statement.

Brienne gaped at him. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You just said my name.” He grinned at her, facing her sideways as he sat on the passenger seat. He leaned close to her almost tauntingly. “So what if you called me by my name? Why are you getting all defensive?”

His insinuations was making Brienne uncomfortable as if driving the Cadillac was not enough to make her feel awkward than she already was. “I’m not.”

“Say it again. I like the way it sounds on your lips,” he purred, his lips getting dangerously close to her ear.

Her whole body jolted from the proximity, and her body automatically backed away from him. “If you do that one more time, I might as well leave you,” she almost yelled. The frantic beating of her heart was so deafening against her ears that she needed to raise her voice to hear herself.

He guffawed. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? Should I stop myself from existing?” he asked, ruefully.

_Yes, please._

“Just shut up,” she mumbled as she started the car.

**:**

The whole drive was uneventful. At first, Brienne thought that Jaime would doze off, considering the exhausted look on him back at Harrenhal. To her surprise, he kept on blabbering about Cersei. On some occasions, he would talk fondly of his little brother, Tyrion.

“That kid is too smart for his own good. He can practically run the whole company before he even graduates from business school,” he exclaimed proudly, as if he was the father instead of the brother.

Brienne smiled at that, shockingly pleased by his unwavering devotion to his brother. Anything that was not Cersei was a welcomed topic for Brienne. But after a few lines of Tyrion, Jaime would revert the conversation back to Cersei, describing to Brienne their antics when they were still children.

“Before she magically grew boobs on her chest, we look so much alike that people had a hard time distinguishing one from the other. We took delight on that, and we often play tricks on our nanny. We would swap clothes and pretend to be the other for the entire day. It can even go as long as a month and no one will even notice,” he ranted, waving his hands clumsily as he spoke.

 _Drunk,_ she noted to herself.

She would not admit it, but she found herself absorbed with Jaime’s story telling. There was something in the way he spoke of his siblings that was so powerful and overwhelming. Brienne just had to listen and hang on to every word.

“You love them, don’t you?” Brienne stated, already knowing the answer.

He nodded his head as enthusiastically as a child. “They’re the only people I trust.”

A part of Brienne was complacent of what he had said, but a greedy part of her was disappointed. Maybe she was expecting to be a part of the people he trusts. After all, he called her to pick him up instead of his brother or Cersei. That had to mean something, right?

 _Stop it, Brienne. Don’t get too carried away. He called you because he’s bored, and there’s nothing more,_ she chided herself.

Despite his drunken stupor, Jaime was able to direct her to his house. It was a huge house—the perfect bachelor pad for a Lannister. It was located somewhere quite isolated from the other houses, perching on top of an elevated place that gave a perfect view of the other houses down below.

To Brienne’s amusement, Jaime’s taste in the architectural design of his house was leaning more towards classically elegant instead of the edgy, modern look she was expecting. When she pulled over in front of his neatly, trimmed lawn, Jaime stumbled out of the car and fell flat on the soft, green grass.

“I don’t want to get up,” he moaned.

Brienne rolled her eyes and went over him. “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Will you accompany me on my bed, Brienne? It’s big enough for the two of us,” he snickered.

Once again, the off-handedness of the way he stated her name took her breath away. “No,” said she, firmly, as she pulled him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her side, draping his arm across her shoulder. His nose finding the hollow on her neck that made her gasp in surprise.

Brienne felt her whole body froze.

“What are you doing?” she hissed between gritted teeth.

“Just give me a moment. The whole world is spinning too fast,” he whispered, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

A moment felt like a millennium for Brienne. Nevertheless, she kept still, too scared to move an inch.

Jaime was strangely silent the whole time, his breathing becoming slower and more regular. His eyes were closed, and he nuzzled closer to her, reveling on her warmth.

“Sir?”

No response.

 _Gods, please don’t tell me he’s asleep,_ she thought, finally noticing that he had become a dead weight beside her. Panicking, she tried shaking him awake.

He stirred and mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath.

“What?”

“Room….Second floor…..Sleepy…..”

Brienne rolled her eyes. This was almost similar to babysitting a kid. Sighing, she dragged him towards his house, not caring if she was being too rough on him.

The front door was not lock.

 _Well, this is careless and stupid,_ she thought disapprovingly.

There was no time to marvel Jaime’s museum-like house with Jaime slumped against her. Wanting to get this over with, she went up the stairs and searched for his bedroom. It was not such a hard task though. Upon opening the very first door she spotted, she almost bounded up and down with joy.

It was a spacious room—making it appear even bigger with all the walls painted white. A dozen of paintings decorated the plain walls, complimenting the minimalistic approach of his room. There was a king-sized bed at the middle of the room with its crimson coverings and golden frame. The floor was carpeted and plush, almost rivaling the softness of the bed itself.

“Here you go,” Brienne grumbled, throwing him unceremoniously to his bed.

He groaned and mumbled something incoherent under his breath, burying his face on his fluffy pillows. His blonde hair covered his whole face, and it spilled all over the pillow.

Brienne leaned forward, trying to decipher the strings of gibberish words that left his mouth. “What?”

“You said no,” he repeated, turning his face sideways so that he could look at her.

Brienne was caught off guard with the look on his face. “Huh?"

“You said no a while ago,” he said again.

“I don’t—“

Faster than being able to say the word “shit”, Jaime leaned forward and captured her lips with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts


	7. SEVEN DAYS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne had punched him.
> 
> She just punched Jaime fucking Lannister.
> 
> She hit her professor with all the force she could muster. And the best part was that she even got away with it.
> 
> He also stole your first kiss, Jaime-voice sang inside her head.
> 
> Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know. Its been soooooooo long since I last updated, but hey, at least I did, right? I'm so sorry for the long wait. Univ work is killing me. Gawdamit.
> 
> Anyway, thank you, everyone, for bearing with my eccentricities. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! (even tho I'm not quite satisfied with it. But since I don't want it to be too long, I need to tweak it a bit)
> 
> Le sigh. Here ya go!

Part Seven: SEVEN DAYS

Brienne had punched him.

She just punched Jaime _fucking_ Lannister.

She hit her professor with all the force she could muster.  And the best part was that she even got away with it.

 _He also stole your first kiss,_ Jaime-voice sang inside her head.

_Damn it._

This was one of those nights wherein Brienne contemplates on whether jumping off the window is better than simply banging her head on the wall—the previous almost sounded tempting to her ears. In fact, it almost rivaled the very idea of a warm glass of milk. Her eyes drifted lazily to her window where only the blackness of the night was displayed. She stared at it as if it contained some bizarre hieroglyphic writings.

 _Don’t think about it too much, Brienne. He’s drunk, and that’s that,_ Jaime-voice consoled her.

_He’s drunk. He’s drunk. He’s drunk. He’s drunk._

Somehow, this became her prayer for the night. She squeezed her eyes close, fruitlessly hoping that she could erase the feel of his warm lips on hers, his golden beard scratching against her cheeks, and his soft hair brushing gently on her face.

_Not helping, Brienne._

Brienne groaned out partly out of frustration and partly out of irritation. She should have just left him alone on that grass. She should have let him poison himself with alcohol.  She should have just stayed at home.

 _At least you get to knock his ass off,_ she thought comfortingly.

Like all normal human beings, Brienne’s first reaction to the off-handed, damnable kiss was a gasp, her mind barely processing the situation she was in. The overwhelming sensation of heat curling at the pit of her stomach spread up to touch her chest, her neck and then her face. There was a heavy buzzing inside her head and a distinctive ringing in her ears, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She forgot that she was Brienne the Beauty. She forgot that she could never be beautiful like Cersei Lannister—that she could never be beautiful for him. But with that searing kiss, she wished she could—for once, she wished she could.

But somewhere between waking and dreaming, Brienne realized that this—whatever this was—was inappropriate. No matter how long she closed her eyes, she would still be Brienne and he would still be Jaime.

When she felt Jaime’s tongue running over her lower lip, she gathered all her strength and willpower in order to pull away before she loses it. Using her two hands, she pushed him off her, but the heat was still there, consuming her. Without even looking at him, she threw a blind punch at his direction, her fist creating a delicious smack as it connected with his jaw.

“Oh my God!” she cried out, realizing what she had done. Cursing her body’s involuntary reaction, she leaned forward to check if Jaime was still alive. His eyes were shut tight, and there seemed to be a blooming bruise somewhere at his lower jaw.

 _He’s still breathing_ , she thought with relief.

After the initial shock of hitting her professor, Brienne realized that she was trembling. Her hands felt icy cold, but she was all warmed up inside. It was a weird sensation, and it was wholly new to her that it almost terrified her. Unable to look at him any longer for fear that she might just do something even more stupid, she ran.

It was the most mature thing to do.

And now, there she was inside her room, listing down the pros and cons of banging her head on the wall instead of jumping off the window.

 _I hope he won’t remember anything,_ she thought, distractedly.

But then, it would mean that she had to suffer the aftermath all by herself. That would be unfair.

_If he remembers it, he’ll torment me for the rest of my life._

Both options did not sound as enticing as jumping off the window.

**:**

The next day, Jaime did not show up in class. In fact, there were no signs of him entering the campus at all. No one had seen him, and nobody really cared.

Except, probably, for Brienne.

Due to last night’s events, she had given up on the thought of getting a decent sleep, and now, she was suffering the consequences of it. On that day, she had lost count of the number of times she dozed off during class discussions, and she had also discovered her ability to fall asleep while talking to someone. Loras had to yell obscenities at her for her to wake up.

But the only time she ever felt really awake and alert was during her last class: Jaime’s class. She had girded herself for this inevitable meeting, and she knew that she could face it with dignity and complacence. Gritting her teeth and planting her feet firmly on the ground, she entered the room with the pride and honor of a Tarth.

After three seconds of standing immobile at the doorway, she finally ducked her head low and half-crawled towards her seat at the far right corner of the room, wishing that she could be as inconspicuous as a mouse. Her heart was pounding painfully against her chest, and her hands were already slick with sweat, but she just wiped it off and waited for her impending doom.

To her great surprise, Jaime did not show up. He was not inside the auditorium when Brienne entered, and as the clock ticked by, he was still nowhere in sight. As soon as forty minutes had passed, majority of her classmates had left the room. The hopes of Jaime’s appearance were dwindling until it almost seemed like a futile dream. And yet, Brienne waited perseveringly.

 _I need to return the goddamn car,_ she told herself tersely when she had the irresistible urge to bolt out of the room before Jaime actually did come.

In the end, he did not, and Brienne was forced to come into terms with the nightmare she was about to face.

_Must. Return. Car. To. Jaime._

**:**

Brienne knew that this was a suicide mission. As soon as she parked the car in front of his house, she was seized by an incurable urge to put as much distance as she could between her and the house. It also did not help when memories of last night’s abomination kept on flashing inside her head.

No. This was a very bad idea.

 _I’ll just leave the keys, and go away. I don’t have to deal with him,_ she promised herself as she dragged her body across the meticulously manicured lawn and towards the entrance to his house. With every step she took, it seemed like the house was getting bigger and meaner. It made her feel like a little girl.

_Get a grip of yourself, Brienne._

Once she reached the door, she hesitantly touched the knob and slowly twisted it, testing if it was locked. It wasn’t.

Slowly, she pushed the door open and stepped inside the house. Her heart was beating frantically, and she was almost certain that Jaime would hear it if it continued at that pace. The whole place was so silent and still that anyone else would have thought that it was abandoned.

Sucking in a huge, deep breath, she gently placed the keys on top of a table.

_Now, turn around and walk away._

But just as when she was about to leave, something else caught her attention. On top of the table were pictures—frames and frames of them.

 _Nothing for you to see,_ Jaime-voice growled inside her head.

She shrugged the warning off, choosing to satisfy her curiosity. Jaime was probably still suffering some minor concussions after her punch anyways.

Leaning forward, she studied the photos, one by one.

There was a photo of two kids who looked exactly alike. Both have blonde hair, angelic faces, wide smiles, and mischievous green eyes. Their only difference was their clothes. One was wearing a red sweater while the other was wearing yellow.  It did not take a mathematician to get the equation.

 _Little Jaime and Cersei,_ she mused. _So this was what he meant. I can’t even tell which of them is Jaime and which is Cersei._

Moving on to the next, she saw three children. Adolescent Jaime and Cersei were beaming up at her, both still looking identical in so many ways except for the length of their hair and their clothes. Wedged between them was a tiny, peculiar kid with the same blonde hair and a pair of mismatched eyes. One was green while the other was of a different color. Brienne noted how his legs were too short while his torso was too long. At his height, his head could barely reach Jaime’s chest.

 _Tyrion?_ Brienne wondered, suddenly remembering Jaime’s loving praises to his younger brother.

Tyrion was also smiling in the picture, but it did not quite reach his eyes. It was the type of smile that had been coerced on him. Brienne could just imagine a frowning kid, bribed or threatened by his parents to smile in front of the camera.

She knew how that felt.

The next photo was of a beautiful woman, golden and elegant, holding two equally majestic toddlers in her arms. The three were splashing in the ocean, laughing and not caring about the world. It was a gorgeous shot, capturing the rawness of the whole scene.

 _Jaime’s mother,_ she guessed.

The rest of the photos were of Cersei and Tyrion. There were no more of his mother and not even one for his father. It was strange to think that a bachelor like Jaime preferred to flaunt all his family pictures, and yet chose to leave out the man who had raised him up. Now that Brienne had thought of it, he had never mentioned his father during the car ride.

She wondered why.

_No, Brienne. You don’t care._

“Enjoying the view? ‘Cause I’m surely enjoying mine.”

Brienne gasped and hastily whirled around, bumping her hips to the table in the process. She spewed out a string of curses as the pain shot through her like a bullet.

“S-sir!”

Leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed across his chest was the devil itself—Jaime Lannister. “Brienne,” he greeted with a low purr.

There he was standing shirtless with his pajama bottom hanging dangerously low around his hips and acting as if this was a daily occurrence while Brienne, on the other hand, was struggling not to combust. Her face felt like an oven set on 100 degrees, and her heart had risen up to her throat. She tried very hard to avoid gaping at the expanse of his exposed skin, and so she decided to concentrate on his face.

 _Oh look, he has a bruise on his jaw,_ she thought, trying to distract herself.

It wasn’t working.

Jaime cocked his head to one side. “Why are you here?" 

“I-I just returned your car, a-and I should just, uh, go now,” she stammered.

He narrowed his eyes on her.

“Uh, sorry for the, uh…”

“For this?” He pointed at the purplish-blue patch on the side of his face. “I’m still trying to refresh my memories from last night. How did I get this again?”

 _He does not remember,_ she realized, gleefully.

“Why were you absent?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

“It's none of your business,” he answered curtly, slowly walking towards the table and grabbing one of the framed photos. He stared at it for a while before speaking up once more. "I don't need you nosing around."

Brienne narrowed her eyes on him, annoyed at the tone of his voice. “I should go.”

“Yes. Just go away,” Jaime agreed, waving his hand dismissively at herasif she was only a lowly servant.  It only made Brienne more irked than she already was.

 _Stupid, pigheaded jerk,_ she internally screamed as she ran out of the house.

But despite herself, her mind kept on summoning the image of Jaime’s sad, bruised face. Even when Sansa cooked Fish ‘n Chips for her that night, Brienne continued to ponder on Jaime’s unusual behavior. He really did look like crap, and she was pretty certain that it was still related to last night’s escapade.

**:**

In the days that followed, Jaime still did not show up at the university. The other students did not really mind. In fact, some of them may even be glad that he was not attending any of his classes. The other professors, on the other hand, seemed to have an impression that Brienne knew something about this strange phenomenon.

“Where’s Lannister?” Baelish asked Brienne one time as she was walking innocently down the hallway.

Brienne was so surprised by the question that it took her a full minute to realize that the inquiry was actually directed to her.

“I don’t know, sir,” she replied, stammering.

Baelish smiled—a very slimy smile that made Brienne wonder if there was something on her face.

“Oh, this is highly unusual, don’t you think? Lannister has never been the type of man to run away from his problems.” Obviously, Baelish was trying to insinuate something to Brienne, but since this was Brienne he was talking to, she had no idea what he was talking about.

Brienne decided to ignore the man, making up a lame excuse in order to extricate herself from him.

When she left Baelish at the corridor, she thought that it would be the last time she would be bothered by such an absurd question. Unfortunately, it was only the start.

On the fifth day, the professors became a plague to Brienne. Some of them sounded harmless when they asked, to no one in particular, about Jaime’s long absence. There were others, on the other hand, who were more frank with the inquiry. Nevertheless, all these were directed to Brienne who was too baffled to respond.

“I wonder if Jaime’s down with a flu. Poor man,” Coach Selmy once mused during practice.

Brienne was sparring with Loras at that time, and she was certain that Selmy was looking at her as he said that. She could only be thankful that she was wearing her helmet or else everyone would witness the blush that rose to her cheeks.

Of course, the statement may be directed to anyone inside the room, but all these Jaime-related topics were starting to unnerve her.

**:**

**  
**As soon as Brienne stepped out of the gym after practice, she was greeted by a very surprising and unexpected visitor.

 “RENLY!” Brienne exclaimed, bracing herself for the onslaught of stomach flipping that was to come. It had always been a protocol whenever Renly was near.

Renly Baratheon, aka Brienne’s ultimate, long-time crush, was standing beside a very expensive-looking, fancy (and a bit flashy), black car, parked just outside the gym. He was talking animatedly with Loras, who seemed to match his zeal on the topic.

The Bartheon was wearing a flawlessly tailored suit with a matching pair of heavily tinted Ray Bans, making him look more like a rockstar instead of a budding businessman.

Upon seeing her, Renly’s face lit up in absolute glee. “BRI!” he exclaimed, dropping his conversation with Loras entirely just to trap Brienne in a very tight hug.

Of course, Brienne knew that the hug meant nothing _really_ special. She had long ago accepted the fact that Renly would never be interested in her like _that_ , but that did not stop her heart from racing and from the blush that swallowed her face.

Renly chuckled good-naturedly as soon as he released her. “Still not used to being hugged?”

Brienne grinned sheepishly. “Not really.”

That night, Renly treated Loras and her to dinner. Being the man he has always been, he chose to take them to a popular, classy restaurant—the type of restaurant wherein Brienne would get too uncomfortable and insecure of her plainness. Wearing just a pair of whitewashed pants and a fitted black shirt, Brienne felt more out of place than usual. Loras, on the other, looked quite comfortable and managed to appear quite dashing even though he was wearing simple clothing.

The three friends talked and laughed about stuffs all throughout dinner, feeling as if nothing had changed. Renly told them stories of his escapades in his newly formed business, and Brienne was very pleased to learn that he had managed to secure a partnership with the Starks.

 After the proverbial “how’s life after college” stage, Renly finally brought out two golden envelopes and handed one to each of them.

“My brother, Robert, is getting married, and I’m inviting the two of you to his wedding,” he stated.

Brienne’s eyes widened. “But isn’t that a bit….I don’t know…a bit….I mean, your brother does not even know me.”

Renly guffawed. “Don’t worry. He told me I can invite any of my friends, and so I’m inviting the two of you.”

Simple things like this could easily make Brienne feel like one ball of emotional wreck. One would have thought that Renly was proposing to her instead of inviting her to his brother’s wedding by the way she seemed touched by all these.

“I don’t know what to say,” said she.

“Say yes then.”

Yup, it almost felt like getting engaged.

 

 

 

**:**

It was only on the next day when Brienne decided to take a look at the invitation given by Renly. The envelope was gold, but the invitation itself was crimson.

 _Lannister color,_ she thought.

And to her horror, she was faced with a photo of Robert Baratheon, who looked quite aged and round, sharing a chaste kiss with the golden Cersei Lannister.

Memories from the dreadful, whirlwind of a night came to her. Everything Jaime had said about Cersei reverberated inside her head as the puzzle pieces fell into place. All the pain she saw in his eyes. The unexplained absence. The moodiness. Everything.

_Fuck._

Before she knew it, she found herself standing in front of the house which she swore she would never enter again.

_Double fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, I apologize for the lack of Jaime exposure. Don't worry. He'll pop in again on the next chapter. Stay tune!
> 
> SONG FOR THE DAY: Pitong Araw by Hale (A Pinoy song composed and sang by a Pinoy rockband) When translated, the title means seven days.


End file.
